


Friends With the Enemy

by thornfield_girl



Series: Friends With the Enemy [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Bisexuality, Boyfriends, Closure, Dating, Exes, Friendship, Homosexuality, Intoxication, Jealousy, Loyalty, M/M, Masturbation, Monogamy, Old Friends, Reality TV, Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is trying to figure Raylan out, and gets some unexpected information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tim watched Raylan leave the office on Friday afternoon, and he felt the familiar mix of irritation and pity that Raylan had so often brought out in him since Winona left him. It had replaced the previous mix of irritation and admiration he’d felt since Raylan had started working with him, and he much preferred the earlier one. 

It was obvious that he’d been drinking much more than usual lately, and then there had been all of the crazy allegations against him coming, one after the other. Tim didn’t exactly believe them, felt that Raylan was ultimately a good marshal and not corrupt, but he also knew there were things Raylan hadn’t been completely forthright about. One of those things was the nature of his dealings with Wynn Duffy and Gary Hawkins; the other was Boyd Crowder. Both of these situations were perfect illustrations of what made Raylan a liability at certain times, and at others, invaluable. Raylan let everything become about the people involved, couldn’t keep an objective distance if he tried - not that he ever did.

Tim had been hesitant to ask Raylan too much about any of this, contenting himself with keeping Raylan slightly off-balance, messing with him, and even after the shit hit the fan, he kept at it. He knew Raylan enjoyed their interaction, and was happy to accept the occasional verbal poke in exchange for Tim doing pretty much anything he asked. Tim hadn’t given much thought to why this arrangement worked for him, but he wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to be the case. 

Things were changing, and Raylan did not seem to be up to dealing with any of it. Tim knew he was going to be a mess on Monday morning, and that he’d be asking for Tim’s help with whatever was going on. Tim needed more information than Raylan had ever been willing to part with, and he figured his best chance of getting it might be after Raylan had a few drinks in him. If Raylan had nothing to say, at least he could play a few games of pool.

Tim waited until around 9 to head over to the bar underneath Raylan’s apartment. He walked in, scanned the room, and saw Raylan sitting at a table in the far corner. Tim walked towards him, hand lifted in greeting and trying to catch his eye. As he approached, he saw why that might have been a problem - Raylan’s eyes were unfocused, and as he reached for his glass, he bumped it and nearly knocked it over. He sucked some bourbon off his hand and smiled vaguely up at Tim. It was pretty apparent that he was beyond the point of no return. He was going to feel like shit tomorrow, that much was clear. 

“Hey, Raylan.”

Raylan looked up and attempted to keep his eyes on Tim’s face. “Tim.”

“Looks like you’ve been here awhile.”

“Well, I live here. Didn’t you know?” He was speaking carefully, not yet slurring but not sounding quite right either. 

Tim leaned in and spoke slowly and clearly. “Why don’t I walk you upstairs to your place? You look tired.”

“You mean I look fuckin’ drunk off my ass, don’t you?”

“Well...”

“Nah, I’m alright. Waitin' on someone anyway. You go on, there’s some pretty girls over by the pool tables. They was talkin’ to me earlier, but that ain’t what I’m lookin’ for tonight.” 

Tim couldn’t help but be slightly amused by the way Raylan was speaking - the only times he’d heard him sound like such a hillbilly were when he was trying to get information from someone in one of the hollers. Still, it was concerning him a bit as well, and he thought he should try a little harder to get Raylan to leave the bar.

“Raylan, listen, I don’t think you’re in any condition to meet anyone tonight. Let me get you home, you can leave word with the bartender for whoever’s coming.”

“My condition... that don’t matter. He’s seen me worse. We go back, me an’ him.”

Tim pulled his head back a bit at that. He had a bad feeling he knew exactly who Raylan was talking about, and it was not someone Raylan should be talking to in public right now.

“Raylan, who’s coming to meet you?”

Raylan got a strange smile on his face, one that Tim couldn’t quite categorize. 

“Boyd. Boyd’s comin’.”

“Boyd Crowder? Raylan, why the hell would you have him come here? What are you playing at?”

“Nothin’... don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it, Raylan, and if you weren’t so fucked up you would be too. You know how this looks, don’t you? People already think you’re in his pocket, so why would you risk meeting him at the goddamn bar where you live? Why meet with him at all?”

“In his pocket...” Raylan laughed softly, leaned forward and rested his forehead on his fist. “Now there's a visual."

“Raylan, why did you call him?”

Raylan rubbed a hand over his face, and when he spoke it was in a voice that Tim would never have expected to hear from Raylan. It was small, and sad, and utterly honest. “I just needed a friend around.”

“You could have called me. I live closer, and also, I’m not a fucking criminal.”

“He’s... I needed an _old_ friend, Tim. Someone who knows me.”

Although Tim and Raylan hadn't spent much time together outside of work, he was somehow bothered by the implication that he didn’t really know Raylan at all. He'd tried, in the beginning, to extend an offer of friendship, but Raylan hadn’t been receptive. Tim had assumed that it was due to Raylan's resistance to being forced into coming back to Kentucky, but that made it even weirder, in his mind, that he would renew a friendship with someone like Boyd Crowder. 

In any case, he certainly couldn't claim much knowledge or insight into Raylan's character. He didn’t know who the man really was, and it was becoming clear that he was missing a fairly large chunk of the puzzle about Raylan’s time in Harlan, before he left.

“So, what is all that about, anyway?”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Boyd Crowder. It always seemed like you hated the man, and yet he keeps fucking turning up in your life all the time. Why?”

“Boyd is... Boyd, he... well, you know he saved my life, right?”

“Down in the mines, yeah. You told me that after you shot him.”

“After I shot him... yeah.” Raylan ran a hand through his hair, squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them. “He saved me, then I almost fuckin’ killed him.”

“You did the right thing there, Raylan. You had no choice.”

Raylan didn’t answer that, just let his eyes slide over to the door. 

“So, that’s why you keep hanging around him? Guilt, or something? Gratitude?”

“No.”

Tim frowned, not really sure what he was looking for. So, they were friends. It wasn’t really his business why they were friends, and he didn’t know what Raylan could really tell him that would clear anything up. Really, it was curiosity. He felt like it would tell him more about who Raylan was, and he couldn’t help wanting to find out.

“Tim... what does Harlan seem like to you? Like a nice fuckin’ place to grow up? You’ve met Arlo, how does he strike you as a daddy? How about Bo fuckin’ Crowder? Maybe you can use your imagination and figure out why me and Boyd might have been close.”

"Okay... I get that. But why now? He's not a good guy, Raylan. Remember the goddamn church bombing?"

"He was a good boy, Tim. He _was_ , I remember. I thought... I thought he was gone, but he ain't. My friend's still there.” Raylan was looking right at Tim, as sincere as he’d ever seen him. Tim didn’t know if he was right, but it was obvious that Raylan believed it. At least right at this moment he did, five or six bourbons into the evening.

Tim saw Boyd come into the bar just then, and sighed. Too late to get Raylan out. Boyd made a beeline for their table, and Tim noticed how vivdly he stood out from all the other people in the bar. He was sort of ridiculous looking, he thought. He was dressed like an old man, in black slacks and a grey shirt buttoned up tight. He was all angles and teeth, and intense, close-set eyes. He had a large presence, which Tim hadn't noticed in their previous interactions, so perhaps it was something he could turn on or off at will. He'd known people like that before, and they were always dangerous.

Raylan smiled when he spotted him, that same strange, almost helpless smile as when he’d said Boyd’s name before. Tim had never heard Raylan speak Boyd’s name in anything but anger before, to his recollection, and it had been odd to see.

“Why, Marshal Gutterson, I did not realize you were going to be joining us this evening.”

“Well, I just stopped in and saw Raylan sitting here, so I came over to chat. I’m not sure he’s up to much more socializing tonight.”

“It does look that way. Hey, Raylan. How’re you feelin’?”

“Mmmm... not so fuckin’ great now, tell you the truth. Shit, boy I thought you's never gonna show up."

Tim couldn’t keep from smirking at Raylan's transformation from educated Federal employee to moonshine drinking coal miner, and he noticed Boyd grinning like he'd won some kind of contest. 

“You could have held off on drinkin’ so goddamn much until I got here.”

“Sorry.”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “Okay, come on. Let’s go. You got a tab you need to take care of or something?”

“Nah, I pay it with my rent.”

“Fine.”

Tim was unsure of what to do here - it seemed like Crowder had the situation under control, but it felt very strange for him to be releasing Raylan, as drunk as he was, into the hands of such a person. The last time Tim had seen Boyd, he'd been hauling him off of Raylan, who was laid out flat on the floor of Art's office. 

“Need some help getting him upstairs?”

Boyd gave him a considering look, almost but not quite a smile, and said, “No, I believe I can handle it. Don’t worry, Marshal. Raylan’s safe with me.”

"Raylan? You sure you're good here?"

"Yeah. I know you don't get it, but I promise it's okay. Boyd's my good friend. Sometimes."

"You need to be more careful, Raylan."

Raylan just smiled and shrugged, then stood up unsteadily. He put a hand on Boyd's shoulder to keep from falling, and Boyd grinned at him, leaning in close and muttering something in a low voice that made Raylan chuckle. 

Tim watched them walk away, Raylan's hand not leaving his friend's shoulder, and Boyd's hand pressing in the middle of his back to keep him moving forward. 

Tim was no longer worried about what might happen to Raylan tonight - it was easy to see the deep affection in the relationship, despite the hostility and resentment that he had witnessed between them in the past. He was, however, concerned about what this meant in terms of Raylan's work in Harlan, and the accusations against him. Whatever it was between them, he could see that it had nothing to do with money. It was clearly much more dangerous than that.


	2. Sunshine On My Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim cheers Raylan up, at least for awhile.

“Raylan, I’m not trying to pry or anything. I swear, I’m not...”

That was a terrible way to start a sentence when talking to anyone, let alone Raylan Givens. Tim realized this as he was saying it, and was less than surprised to see Raylan’s eyes narrow in preparation for the rest of it.

“... but I gotta ask. That night at the bar, when Boyd Crowder came to meet you. You seemed so sure about his redeeming qualities. You still feel that way? ”

Tim would never have considered asking Raylan a question like that, except for the fact that Raylan had extended a rare and unexpected invitation to get a drink after work. He’d asked him just as they were walking out, and Tim had been so taken aback that he said yes right away, rather than give Raylan a hard time like he might have under any other circumstances.

It was the day after Arlo Givens had been arrested, and Raylan’s old friend had been freed despite his almost certain guilt. He’d walked into work that morning with closed-off eyes that flashed a warning at everyone to keep their distance. Not that Tim needed it - no one who’d known the man for any length of time would. 

Now Raylan rolled his eyes at him. “Well, what do you think, Tim? What kind of a stupid question is that?”

“Well, I didn’t really know what to think even then, Raylan. I couldn’t understand the loyalty there at all, never have.”

Raylan just scowled down into his drink. Tim knew it was probably a bad idea to push, but he didn’t want to let it go. He wondered what Raylan would do if he just asked him, out right.

“Raylan, what is it about him? What is the deal with you two?”

Raylan looked at him with a closed expression and downed the rest of his drink.

“I think that’s about it for me. I’m gonna head home.”

“Come on, man. Don’t be like that.”

Raylan shook his head and stood up, took out his wallet and pulled out a few bills. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim.”

Tim watched him start to leave, then threw some of his own money on the table and jogged after him, catching up just after he walked out the door.

“Raylan! Can you just wait a minute? What the hell are you running for?”

“I ain’t running. I’m walking. I’m going to get in my car and drive to my apartment. Probably have another drink and possibly end up in bed with the bartender. Again.”

Tim felt a pang of... something... when he said that. What the hell it was, he couldn’t be sure, but it felt ridiculously close to jealousy. 

They had reached Raylan’s car. Raylan walked around to the driver’s side and looked up at Tim as if wondering what he was still doing there. Tim looked at Raylan standing there in his hat, eyes squinting against the late-afternoon sun, and was struck with the sudden realization that he wanted him, pretty badly, in fact. Furthermore, that he had probably been wanting him for quite awhile without allowing that concept to enter his conscious mind. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel kind of pissed off, thinking that he had certainly earned a little bit more trust from Raylan than he was being given. 

“Raylan, this is bullshit. I think I’ve put up with enough crap because of you over the last few months to warrant a little goddamn consideration. You’re being a real dick, you know that?”

Raylan looked at him for a few beats, sighed, and said, “Yeah, I know it. Okay, fine. But I don’t really feel like sitting in a bar. You got liquor at your place?”

Tim looked at him like he was an idiot, and said, “Is that a serious question?” He didn’t even bother to address the fact that Raylan had just invited himself over without the least bit of concern that Tim would object. “I’ll meet you there.”

Tim went off to get his car, and Raylan was waiting for him when he arrived at his building. He opened the door and walked in ahead of Raylan, who glanced around as he trailed behind him. Tim knew what Raylan’s living quarters generally looked like, and he had a good idea what the man might be thinking about Tim’s habitually spotless apartment. Raylan wasted no time proving him right.

“Damn, Tim. Cleaning lady off this week? I think I see a sofa cushion that’s slightly askew.”

“Okay, you can laugh, but you get used to it in the Army. I don’t think I could change it now even if I tried. Anyway, this is easier.”

Raylan snorted out a laugh. “If you say so.” 

“You want Jack? Or, I got Four Roses.”

“Jack’s good.” Raylan accepted the glass and sat down on the couch. 

They drank in silence for maybe a minute before Raylan spoke.

“Why did you want to know about Boyd?”

The question threw Tim off-balance. He had resigned himself to not asking any more questions on this topic, and the last thing he’d expected was for Raylan to bring it up again. Then there was the question itself; Tim hadn’t really known why he’d asked it in the first place, but he was sure he knew now. Whether Raylan could handle a truthful answer, he had no idea, so he gave him a half-truth.

“I don’t like it when I can’t figure something out. I hate feeling like I’m at a disadvantage.”

Raylan smiled then, but it didn’t look at all happy. Tim realized belatedly that Raylan could probably relate to that feeling much more than he’d like to, as of late. 

“The truth is, Raylan, ever since that night at the bar, I’ve been wondering about something. I could be completely off base, though.”

Raylan just raised his eyebrows at Tim, not offering anything, but not stopping him either. He took that as encouragement, the most he was ever likely to get from the man.

“You said you were good friends. Is that all? Because I feel like that doesn’t quite account for everything.”

“Do you honestly want to know about this? Because I’ll tell you. I ain’t ashamed of anything. But I don’t know how much you really want to know about me.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to be without words. He hadn’t expected that from Raylan, in fact, he had more than half-expected Raylan to laugh at him and tell him he was crazy. He nodded, and reached over to the table for the bottle to refresh both of their drinks.

Raylan took a deep breath and started talking, and he sounded a bit like he hadn’t used his voice for a long time. Tim wondered if he’d ever told this story to anyone, if he’d maybe told Winona, or if it had been sitting inside his head for twenty-some years, gathering dust.

“Boyd and I knew each other since we were little kids. When we were real young, we played together. Then we got older, and shit got more touchy between our daddies, and we hung out with different people. So we weren’t friends for most of our childhoods. I always liked him though, and on the rare occasions we were thrown together for whatever reason, we got along just fine.”

Raylan took a sip of his drink and looked like he was concentrating, trying to get it right.

“After high school, we both started working at the mine. We were pretty much the only guys our age down there, at the time, so we naturally hung out together. We found out pretty quick that we had a... rapport, I guess you’d call it. I liked listening to him talk about things. He’s a damn good talker, as you may have noticed.”

Tim was watching him speak, fascinated. He seemed very far away, and was speaking very slowly, like he was remembering ten things for every one that he said out loud. 

“I don’t know what he liked about me... maybe just that I was willing to listen to him and wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, or make him do anything. Eventually, we were spending quite a bit of time together, and I noticed that my feelings towards him had changed. I was thinking about things that I honestly never had, before, and only rarely since that time. Him being the observant person that he is, he picked up on it, called me on it. Scared the crap out of me for a minute, ‘til he kissed me.” Raylan made a sound, then, that could have been a laugh, but it sounded weary and sad. “We were 19. Neither one of us was prepared to deal with something like that, not in Harlan, not for long, anyway. We had maybe a month together before everything went to shit, and I ended up hauling ass out of Kentucky. We didn’t leave things all that great.”

Tim sat quietly for a moment, thinking of everything that had happened to Raylan since he’d been back here. It was a weird feeling, as everything he knew took on a completely different perspective. 

“So... since you’ve been back...”

“Hell, no. Nothing like that.”

“I thought maybe, that night at the bar...”

“No. He just got me upstairs and made me drink a glass of water. Gave me some shit about not waiting for him. One of us took my boots and jacket off me, I couldn’t swear it wasn’t him. I think he stayed until I passed out, but that wouldn’t have been too long.”

Raylan frowned slightly, started to say something, then shook his head and shrugged.

Tim nodded, distractedly. He was thinking about what Raylan said, “never before and only rarely since,” wondering if the “rarely” part could possibly apply to him.

“So, Tim, did that help you?”

“Huh?”

“Now that you have that information, do you feel like you’ve got a good handle on my relationship with Boyd Crowder? Because I gotta tell ya, I already knew all that shit, and I obviously didn’t get it at all. Here I was thinking all this time that he might still care about me in some way, but that was nothing but pure bullshit. He was just using me for whatever help I could offer him. Maybe he’s been pissed about the shooting all this time. Or maybe he still hates me because of how things were when I left here. Either way, me and him are done. There’s nothing left there.” 

Tim frowned at that, thinking of Crowder’s face that night, when he saw Raylan so out of it. It was a mix of protectiveness and amusement, and so full of affection that Tim had felt like he was intruding on something private, just by seeing it. When he looked at Raylan now, his eyes told a very different story from his flat, dispassionate tone of voice. 

“I’m not so sure about all that, Raylan. Boyd Crowder's an outlaw, and in my professional opinion, kind of an asshole, but I wouldn't say he doesn't care about you. He just cares more about himself. And sure, he absolutely used you, but that hasn't exactly been a one way street, has it?"

Raylan laughed softly and shook his head. 

"Tim, do you know what he said to me? He as much as told me that Arlo had become like a father to him. A father to _him_ , when he knew that man was never a father to me, his own son. He said that to me, knowing what that asshole did to me and my mother for my entire childhood, and their entire marriage. He didn't just know it, he _saw_ it, on my face and hers. So how the hell does a man do that to someone he's called a friend?"

"I'm sorry, Raylan."

"Forget it. Don't matter now. This just makes things simpler."

They drank for a little while, making awkward conversation about work, until Tim decided to order sandwiches. After he made the call, he sat back down next to Raylan and asked him the question he really wanted the answer to.

"So... what's your story, then? You like guys? Or was it just something special about that particular holler-dwelling miscreant?"

Raylan shot him a sidelong glance. "Why do you care? Why are you asking me about any of this?"

"Well, Raylan, I was hoping to avoid making a fool of myself when I make a pass at you later on."

Raylan gaped at him for a second, then smiled genuinely for the first time all day. He leaned over with his arm on the back of the couch, and closed the foot or so of distance between them, until they were almost touching. 

“Why wait?” He spoke in a low voice, full of desire, although Tim wasn’t entirely sure it was all for him. Nor did he especially care. 

“Well... the sandwich guy is coming.” 

Raylan grinned, then leaned in a little further and kissed him. It was a light kiss, hardly anything, but it went straight to his dick. It held a lot of promise.

“I guess it’ll keep, then.”

Tim sat back and took a drink, keeping his eyes on Raylan. He had to give the man credit, he was pretty goddamn cool. He didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable, despite a turn of events that had to be as surprising to him as they'd been to Tim. Then again, maybe he was used to having random people throw themselves at him. 

Tim thought it was strange how easily he’d let the story go, once he’d made up his mind to do it. It was almost as if he'd just been waiting for someone to ask. Maybe he’d really been hoping Tim would have some insight for him, even though he’d asked him in a sarcastic way. 

The food was delivered about ten minutes later, and Tim was putting it on the kitchen counter when Raylan came up behind him. 

“I ain’t real hungry just yet. How ‘bout you?”

Tim turned to find Raylan standing there, hands in his pockets, like anyone’s idea of what sex should look like. He’d seen Raylan with his shirt off, and it was a sight to behold, but Tim thought he might look even sexier right now, in his checked dress shirt, tie off and unbuttoned at the neck. And those jeans. He’d never seen anyone wear jeans the way Raylan did. 

“Nope. Not just now. What do you want to do instead?”

Raylan just stood there and let his eyes sweep up and down Tim’s body. He tilted his head to the side and said, “I thought you had big plans for me, later.”

Tim walked up into Raylan’s space and reached out to grab him by the hips, pulling him in real close. “You sure you want to do this, Raylan? Last chance to change your mind without severely pissing me off.”

“Long as you ain’t gonna fall in love with me or somethin’.” Raylan looked like he was trying to suppress a grin. “That would be a pain in the ass, since we work together and all.”

Tim laughed in surprise. “Why, does every man you take to bed fall in love with you?”

“Pretty much. Every man, every woman. Shit, I can’t even get a cat ‘cause they get so sad when I leave the goddamn house.”

“What about Boyd Crowder?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Tim could have smacked himself. What the hell would have possessed him to bring that shit up again, now? 

Raylan’s face darkened. “Well, maybe he did, once. That might account for some of his current anger with me, I suppose. I’m sure it accounts for some of mine.” Tim was surprised at the honesty, but he appreciated it. 

“I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

Raylan sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does.”

“Tim, that is literally the last thing I want to be thinking about right now. In fact, I was hoping you might take my mind off of it for awhile. So could you please, for fuck’s sake, just shut up about it?”

“Okay.” Tim pushed forward then and kissed him on the mouth. Raylan responded immediately, and ran his hands up and down Tim’s arms. Tim could feel how big those hands were, how strong they were, and he didn't want to have to wait much longer before he had them all over his body. 

Tim hooked his hand into the front of Raylan's jeans and pulled as he walked backwards out of the kitchen. Raylan kept kissing him as they made their way down the hall to the bedroom. 

When they got there, they broke apart and stood looking at each other for a moment. Raylan sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots, then started unbuttoning his shirt. Before he could finish, Tim was climbing on top of him and pushing him back. He sat astride Raylan and finished the rest of the buttons himself, pulling the shirt apart to stare down at him. 

“Jesus Christ, Raylan. When do you find the time?”

Raylan’s mouth twitched, and he said, “I don’t work out. It just comes natural to me, I guess.”

Tim shook his head and smirked at him. “You are so full of shit.” 

Raylan reached up to slide his hand under Tim’s shirt, running his fingers up his slim waist and around to his back. His eyes were on Tim’s face as he licked his lower lip, and they quickly filled with something hot and demanding. 

“Get up, Tim. Get those clothes off you.”

Tim didn’t need to be told twice. He felt just about as impatient now as Raylan looked, so he stripped quickly, throwing his shirt and boxers in the laundry basket, but hanging his jeans on the back of a chair.

Raylan laughed at him, having already shed his shirt and jeans in a heap on the floor. Tim gave him a severe look. 

“Shut it. This is my apartment, goddamn it. You want to live in a dump, that’s your prerogative.”

Raylan didn’t answer, he just walked over and kissed him, holding the back of Tim’s head in one hand and reaching down to wrap the fingers of the other hand around Tim’s cock.

"What do you feel like doing, Raylan?"

"Let's just keep it simple."

Tim nodded and backed them towards the bed. He sat down and pulled Raylan on top of him, felt his weight pushing him into the mattress.

Tim didn't entirely like the feeling of being the smaller man, but Raylan never used his strength to intimidate anyone. He did that with his eyes, and his reputation, but he wasn't looking at Tim that way at all. He never had, come to think of it. He had mostly relied on his charm to get what he wanted. 

Raylan leaned in and spoke close to his ear, close enough that his breath tickled the tiny hairs on Tim's skin and made him shiver.

"You know all that shit I did that made your life a drag for a while?"

Tim had long since stopped caring about any of that, and right now all he wanted was for Raylan to put his hand on him again, but he answered anyway. 

"Uh huh."

"Well, consider this my apology." He kissed Tim softly, slipping his tongue in for a second, then moved down the bed. He held Tim's cock in his hand for a moment, not moving, as he looked him straight in the eyes. 

When Raylan took him into his mouth, for a moment everything seemed surreal. His picture of who Raylan was had been shattered and put back together in a way that made it so much more interesting than he'd imagined. 

The idea of the Raylan he'd thought he'd known, naked in his bed and sucking his dick, was crazy. He hadn't yet gotten used to this new Raylan, the one who was closer to the real man. The one who had come back to the place where all his demons live. He'd even shot one of them right in the heart, though he hadn't managed to kill him. Whether that would have been better or worse for Raylan, Tim had no idea. 

The question of who Raylan really was ceased to be of any concern to Tim very quickly. Soon he was no longer able to focus on anything except for the feeling of Raylan's hands moving over his thighs and stomach as his mouth worked him slowly, and so confidently that Tim thought maybe he should be surprised. But this was Raylan, and Tim had seldom seen him approach anything less than confidently. 

Raylan pulled off and looked up at Tim, laughter sparking in eyes that were dark with desire. "Fall in love yet?"

Tim looked down at him, deadpan, and shook his head. "It's almost like a superpower, isn't it, the way you always think you're the shit?"

Raylan winked at him, and Tim flopped back, laughing helplessly until Raylan returned to his task, and then nothing seemed funny anymore. Raylan was being relentless, and Tim was doing his best to hang on. He didn’t think Raylan needed any further confirmation of his abilities, so there was no way he was giving in until he had no choice. 

Just when Tim thought he might not last more than another minute, Raylan pulled off again and glared up at him.

“You bored or somethin’?”

Tim gave him a calm smile, and Raylan huffed and went back to what he was doing. Tim felt like he’d won that one, so he decided to let himself go, a little. He reached down and sunk his fingers into Raylan’s hair, and allowed the pure, physical sensations to take over.

When he was almost there, just past the point where he could pull it back, he offered up something for Raylan, just a small concession. He gripped tighter on the handful of hair he'd been holding, and let out an audible exhale. Raylan liked it, Tim could tell, because he dug his fingers into Tim's hips, and that was the end of his control. He came hard into Raylan's mouth, and - just as expertly as he'd done everything else - Raylan kept going until he was done, swallowed his come, and moved back up to sit next to Tim. He pulled a pillow behind himself and rested back against the headboard. 

"Well, Raylan, that was real nice. Almost as good as my high school girlfriend, her first time."

"Okay, big talker. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

“Oh, it’s on. I’ll take you to school, boy.”

Raylan laid on him an expression of long-suffering patience and mild amusement, so Tim got on with it. He sat astride Raylan's lap and kissed him as he stroked his cock slowly. 

Raylan was apparently not as invested in appearing in control of himself as Tim had been. It wasn't that he was such a talker, but he wasn't stingy with the feedback. He talked into their kisses, groaning, and saying, "that feels so fuckin' good," while Tim touched him. As Tim slid down his body, running his tongue over one of Raylan's nipples and kissing his unbelievable stomach, he gave a low moan and said, "Come on, I need it now." It was fucking hot, and Tim thought that if they ever did this again he might be a little more generous with his praise. 

He closed his mouth over Raylan, and again he felt his sense of reality start to waver. Then Raylan's hands came to rest over the sides of his face, and they felt real. They moved around to stroke through his hair, and rub themselves lightly into his neck and behind his ears. As Tim licked up and down the length of his dick, he glanced up to find Raylan watching him intently. 

Tim smiled at him. "Hey, Raylan." 

Raylan smiled back, his face softened with lust and a temporary peace. "Tim."

Tim stroked him a few times with a firm grip, and felt him get harder in his hand. 

"You want to come like this, or in my mouth?" 

"Like this. Kiss me."

Tim did, pumping his dick a few more times until he felt it swell in his hand, and the hot come slicked down his fist. Raylan made some appreciative noises, and when he was finished, said, "Goddamn. That was good. A hell of a lot better than my first girlfriend, I must admit."

Raylan pulled the pillow out from behind him and lay down. Tim propped himself up on one elbow and regarded Raylan curiously.

"Why'd this take so long to happen, Raylan?"

Raylan yawned and stretched before he answered. "Didn't know. You shoulda said somethin'."

“You were always fucking some woman or another, so how was I to know?"

"Well, I make very few exceptions, Tim. You should feel special."

"Oh, I do. Believe me, I feel honored to be in such rarefied company."

Raylan was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling, and Tim was once again pissed at himself for alluding to the one thing Raylan really didn't want to think about. He hadn’t meant it that way, but as soon as he said it he realized how Raylan would take it. Then Raylan started to laugh, almost a giggle, with a tinge of hysteria, contagious and unstoppable. Tim couldn't help it, he started laughing right along with him. 

When he thought he could speak, Tim gasped out, "It's like a fucking Jeopardy question. Category: Strange Bedfellows. The answer: 'Boyd Crowder and Tim Gutterson.' 'Alex, who are two men who've had their dicks in Raylan Givens' mouth?'"

Raylan's laughter had begun to slow down, but at that it started up again, harder than before. In a weak voice, he said, “Oh, shit...” and leaned his forehead into Tim's shoulder until it tapered off. 

Tim was looking at him with a pleased expression. "Feel better now, Raylan?"

"For the moment, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem, man. You want that sandwich now?"

"Hell yes, I'm starving. Whose idea was it to screw on an empty stomach, anyway?"

They got up, pulled on clothes and went back out to the living room to eat. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then they both started to speak at once.

"Go on, Tim. What?"

Tim shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just want to make sure we're okay here. It's not going to be all fucking weird at work now." As he said it, he realized that he wasn’t really concerned about this at all. 

"Not on my end. I can't be held responsible for your behavior, though. I did warn you."

Tim looked at him seriously, as if giving the matter a great deal of thought. "I'll try to contain myself."

"Well, that's all I can really ask."

Raylan took another bite of his food and regarded Tim with eyes that looked considerably brighter than they had when they'd left work that afternoon. Tim felt good about that, and he figured that if Raylan needed cheering up again some time, he was up to the task.

After they ate, Raylan hung around to watch a little bit of a UK basketball game, and then said he needed to head home. Tim walked him to the door. 

"See you tomorrow, Tim. Thanks for supper." 

He grinned, and didn't actually wink, but Tim felt one was implied. Tim laughed, and considered whether he should kiss him goodbye, but decided not to. The thought of it felt weird, so he could only imagine how awkward the reality would be. 

"Yep, see you then. Have a good one, Raylan." 

"I already did. Now I'm just gonna go to sleep."

He picked up his hat from the table by the door, settled it on his head and walked out, cool as ever.


	3. Longing For Something More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim messes with Raylan. Raylan kinda likes it. 
> 
> Tim goes to Harlan and ends up revealing more than he intended.

Tim walked in to work on Monday morning with a grin on his face. Even under normal circumstances, the chance to get under Raylan’s skin was something of a consolation for the end of a weekend. As it stood, circumstances had shifted, but Tim was quite sure that didn’t do anything but give him an advantage. He thought he could have some fun with this.

Raylan wasn’t in yet, so Tim settled in to see what had come across his desk over the past two days. He had just started sifting through some paperwork when Art opened the door to his office and waved him over. 

“Tim, come in here a minute and close the door.” Tim did, but he was surprised. Art rarely needed to speak to him with the door closed - mostly, that was Raylan’s territory. 

“What’s up, Art?”

“Son, I’m gonna need you to take on a few matters that would ordinarily fall on Raylan’s shoulders. I don’t want him down in Harlan for the time being, for obvious reasons. This shit with his father, no man should have to be a part of something like that. It’s not fair to him, and it’s also a bad idea in practical terms. We all know Boyd Crowder’s getting away with murder. Raylan’s history with him being what it is, that could turn real ugly, real fast. I don’t want him near it.”

Tim doubted that Art knew the extent of Raylan’s history with Crowder, but he was obviously aware that it went way back, and that it was enough to complicate things. If Raylan hadn’t downplayed it so much from the beginning, Art would likely never have sent him down to Harlan to deal with him in the first place, back when he’d started here.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s fine with me. Have you told him yet? Because I have a feeling he’s not going to like it much.”

“I’ll handle it. He can get you up to speed on everything today. When he comes in, let him know I need to talk to him, would you?”

“Will do.” 

When Tim got back to his desk, Raylan was just coming in the door with his coffee, looking in better shape than Tim might have expected. He sat down at his desk, and Tim poked his head over the partition. 

“Morning, Raylan.”

“Tim,” he replied, sounding just like he always did.

“Art’s looking for you. Said to tell you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that about?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“I’m asking you.”

“He’s reassigning some of your workload.”

Raylan looked at him without surprise, and said, “Let me guess. Everything having to do with Harlan, my father or Boyd Crowder.”

“You should go talk to Art.”

Raylan sighed, stood up and started heading towards Art’s office. As he passed Tim’s desk, Tim said, “Oh, Raylan, one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned forward and said, just quietly enough, “I can’t stop thinking about you, baby. Everything else has become meaningless.”

Raylan rolled his eyes and continued on his way. 

Tim glanced over at the glass walls of Art’s office, expecting to see Raylan arguing his case with their boss. He was surprised to see Raylan nodding, apparently in agreement, and leaving after a very short time. 

Raylan stopped at Tim’s desk on the way back to his own and said, “I’ll fill you in on all that shit after lunch.”

“That’s fine, Raylan. Although, I don’t know that I’ll be eating lunch. Food has lost all its appeal since you left. All I do is yearn for you.”

Raylan looked at him wearily and said, “How long you gonna keep that shit up?”

Tim just grinned up at him until he stalked off to sit at his own desk. They spent the morning working on their own things, Tim occasionally sighing loudly and sending longing looks towards Raylan when he looked up. The third time this happened, Tim could have sworn he’d seen Raylan push down a grin real quick, before looking away. 

Shortly after that, Raylan stood up and said he was going to lunch, and Tim watched him walk out. The man could seriously wear some fucking clothes. 

After lunch, Tim and Raylan sat down with the Harlan files. Tim was fascinated by the depth of understanding Raylan seemed to have about the power structure and connections that ran through the Harlan crime scene. Though there wasn’t a strict order or official hierarchy, everyone involved knew who ran what, and who they needed to be afraid of. And of course, as always, coloring all interactions were the various relationships between the old families of Harlan County. For Tim, being in Harlan was always a little like being in a foreign country.

 

Mid-morning on Wednesday, a call came in about a prostitute who had ended up in the hospital, unconscious, after a severe beating. The local police were alerted, and by the time the woman had regained consciousness, they had discovered that she was wanted in Ohio in connection to a series of robberies. Raylan was about to take it, until it became clear that she’d been working in Harlan when she’d taken the beating. Raylan was well aware of who was running girls in Harlan.

“Guess she’s all yours, Tim.”

“She tell anyone who beat her?”

“Said it was a john.”

“What do you think?”

Raylan closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead for a minute. “You know, I really hope so.”

The fugitive would need to stay in the hospital for another day, at least, but Tim decided to drive down and have a chat with Boyd Crowder. He wanted to know how the woman had come into his employ, and while he was at it - not that this fell anywhere near the scope of his duties - see if he could get a bead on how the man was handling the women who worked for him. 

Tim had never spent any time speaking to Boyd Crowder alone, and realized he didn’t have a very good feel for who the man was. He’d seen his public face, the posturing and preaching, the cold, pragmatic cruelty. 

He’d also seen him with Raylan, that night in the bar. Despite what later transpired, and Raylan’s insistence that there was nothing left of whatever feelings had been between them, Tim had certainly seen another side of him, one that seemed much younger, unburdened by time and hard choices. He didn’t necessarily believe that this was the man’s true nature - not anymore - but he found it interesting that there were still remnants of that person in him. Maybe Raylan was the only person who still had access to them. 

He parked in the gravel lot of Johnny’s bar, tried the front door and found it open. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he heard Boyd Crowder’s voice, full of put-on respect and dubious welcome. 

“Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson, if memory serves. Please come in.”

Tim walked over to the table at the far end of the room, where Crowder was sitting. 

“Mr. Crowder, I have a matter to discuss with you, regarding a fugitive from Ohio who has been in your employ for the past several months.”

“That would be quite a surprise to me, although things have been a bit hectic around here, and my vetting processes may have lapsed during that time.”

Tim sat down at the table and said, “Can you tell me how a woman named Janice Nelson came to work for you? Did someone bring her in? Was she friends with any of your other... employees?”

“Janice Nelson. You know, that name doesn’t really ring any bells.”

“She’s one of your whores.”

“Whores? Marshal, I believe you’ve made a mistake. I run a bar. I am a legitimate businessman.”

“Mr. Crowder, I’m a federal marshal, here about a fugitive, and I don’t give a shit about your sad little ring of pill-popping hillbilly skanks. So please, don’t waste my time. I’m not Raylan, I don’t have the patience for it.”

Boyd grinned and said, “‘Patience ‘and ‘Raylan’ are not words I’ve often heard used together. Speaking of which, why is it that you’re here? I thought your boss liked to send him down here to harass his people. I thought Raylan was your secret weapon out in the hollers.”

“Look, what can you tell me about Ms. Nelson? Or, I suppose I could go roust those girls out of their trailers, see what I can find in plain sight. I really don’t feel like doing that, believe me, but I will if I have to. What do you say you save us both the extra effort and stop playing games with me?”

“In all honesty, I have no idea about this person, but I do know someone I can ask. Call me tomorrow, and if there’s anything to tell you, I’ll know by then. Whatever you think my business is, I can assure you it is not the harboring of known fugitives.”

“There’s also the matter of the the woman’s physical condition. She was severely beaten. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“You don’t know me, Marshal Gutterson, so I’m gonna let that slide. Raylan would have known better than to ask such a thing. Maybe you should have spoken with him before coming down here.”

“I did, as a matter of fact. He didn’t seem to feel as certain as he might have liked to.”

That got a reaction, finally. It was a very small one that would most likely have gone unnoticed, had Tim not been watching carefully for it. It was just the tiniest downturn at the corners of his mouth, and a very slight shift backwards. Almost immediately, this was replaced by a calm smile. 

“Well. I suppose Marshal Givens is not feeling especially generous towards me at the moment. He thinks I’ve wronged him, I know. He always seems to feel the debt is on my end, regardless of the realities.”

Tim knew very well that it was foolish to get into this at all, but he found this whole situation fascinating. He inclined his head toward Boyd and said, “I’m pretty sure Raylan isn’t thinking in terms of debt. You seem to be the one intent on keeping score.”

Boyd raised his eyebrows at Tim and spoke slowly, like he was some kind of idiot. “Raylan Givens was born and raised in Harlan County, Marshal. He’s perfectly aware of the score, no matter what he tells you, or himself. I know the man is hurting, but that’s nothing new. I am not responsible for his pain.”

Tim frowned. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. He knew Raylan would hate being discussed like this. He stood up to leave and said, “I didn’t come here to talk about Raylan. I’ll be in touch about Janice Nelson. And if I hear of any more reports of abused prostitutes in these parts, you can be sure I won’t just take your word for it that it was some john.”

“Well, I appreciate the warning, Marshal. And tell Raylan I said hello. He certainly doesn’t need official business to pay a visit.”

Tim scoffed, and said, “I’m not telling him anything. I’m not about to let you use me in whatever fucked up mind games you’re playing with him.”

“I’m not playing games. That was sincere, not that he would take it as such.” Tim was suprised to find that he actually believed what the man was saying, but it pissed him off that he could say such a thing.

“Why would he? He’s under the impression that you hate him, and I can’t really blame him for thinking that, after that business with his father.” 

“Forgive me, but I don’t believe you’re qualified to comment on any of that. You’re missing a great deal of information, which I’m not about to share with you.”

Tim’s reply was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and it was only then that he realized how easily Crowder had gotten under his skin. “Maybe not as much as you might think.”

Boyd’s only reaction to that was a non-reaction. He kept his face neutral and stared at Tim for only about half a second longer than he might otherwise have done, and said, “I see,” he said softly. “Well, I can only surmise, then, that you and I have a bit more in common than I had imagined.”

Tim thought that was a bit of a leap, but he didn’t bother to deny it. He was already thinking about how pissed Raylan would be if he found out about this conversation. He should never have let on that he knew anything. He walked towards the door, and as he left, called back over his shoulder, “Expect to hear from me by noon tomorrow.”

On the ride back to Lexington, Tim gave the conversation some thought, and eventually came to the conclusion that he had to let Raylan know what had transpired. It seemed potentially dangerous for Boyd Crowder to have information on Raylan and not let Raylan know about it. 

He arrived back at the office and went over to Raylan’s desk. Since he’d been messing with him for days, he knew Raylan might not take him seriously, but he said, “Hey Raylan, you want to get a drink after work today?”

“Uh... “

“I’ll quit giving you a hard time. I need to talk to you about something that happened today, in Harlan.”

“Something you can’t just tell me about here?”

“I’d rather not.”

Raylan’s face grew wary at that, but he said, “Okay. Lindsey’s, then. Meet me around 7, though, I got some things to do after work.

When Tim arrived, Raylan was sitting down at the end of the bar, nursing a bourbon. He sat down, and Raylan caught the blonde bartender’s eye. She sauntered over and gave him a smile that was clearly an open invitation, saying, “Who’s your friend, Raylan?”

“Lindsey, this is Tim Gutterson. We work together. What are you drinking, Tim?”

“Just a Bud, thanks.”

Tim waited until she’d brought it over to him and walked away before saying anything. “So, I saw Boyd Crowder today.”

“Yeah, I know. About the fugitive. So?”

“Well... I may have let him wind me up a little, without realizing it was happening.”

Raylan nodded. “He’ll do that. I figured you’d be less susceptible to it than me.”

“Thing is, I think I may have inadvertently given him some information that I would have preferred to keep to myself.”

Raylan closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Please tell me this is not what I think it is.”

“Sorry, man. I didn’t exactly tell him, he just... kind of figured it out.”

Raylan sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Okay.” He looked back up at Tim. “Well, the only way he can use it to his advantage is if you let him.”

“Yeah, but Raylan - “

“He won’t do anything with it. He can’t, not without outing himself. How do you think that would go over in Harlan?” Raylan laughed sharply. “If he seems like he’s gonna try to use it, let me know. I’ll tell him what happens if he does.”

“That would be the end of you around here, Raylan.”

“It won’t come to that. Don’t worry about it. I mean, I’d rather he didn’t know, just because I don’t like him knowing more shit about me than he already did. But it won’t make a difference to anything else.”

Raylan had just drained his drink and set it down when Lindsey brought the bottle over. He grinned at her and said, “Thanks, darlin’,” as she poured it into his glass. 

Tim gave him a wry look and said, “You and her, huh?”

Raylan shrugged. “Occasionally.”

“Tonight?”

“Not sure I’ll still be up for it, after you leave.”

Tim snorted and shook his head. “You really don’t ever consider the possibility of rejection, do you?”

Raylan smirked at him and said, “Not from someone who’s so goddamn anxious to let people know about it that they start with my first boyfriend.”

“It was an accident!”

“Okay. You want another beer, or should we just go upstairs?”

Tim took the last gulp from his glass and thought about it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping for this outcome. He didn’t really see the upside to pretending otherwise, especially when Raylan had another option standing a few feet away, who wasn’t doing any such thing.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Raylan grinned, and stood up. Lindsey tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at him in a question. He walked over to where she was drying some glasses and leaned into the bar. He said, “I ain’t working tonight, so I’m gonna turn in early. See you tomorrow night.”

“Alright, Raylan. Night. Nice to meet you, Tim.”

“You too, Lindsey. Good night.”

Tim followed Raylan up a poorly lit flight of stairs, and into an equally dim apartment. He looked around, and was about to comment on the sorry state the place was in, but his words were cut off just as they’d begun. Raylan pushed him up against the wall in the entranceway and kissed him roughly as he began to unbutton his own shirt. Tim was instantly hard, and he grabbed at Raylan’s belt, pulling him in tighter. 

Raylan moved his mouth down to Tim’s neck as he pulled off his shirt and pulled Tim’s out of his pants. Tim let him pull it over his head and toss it on the floor, and he knew he must be very fucking turned on, because it barely bothered him at all, even in this shithole. 

Raylan took him by the arm and said, “Come on,” walking across the living room and through an open doorway off the hallway. As soon as they both finished undressing, Raylan sat down on the bed, leaned against the headboard and reached out a hand. Tim took it and crawled on top of him, kissing him, but keeping his hands firmly braced on either side Raylan’s head. 

Raylan groaned and grabbed at his hips, pulling him in close and biting him on the shoulder. “I wanna fuck you tonight. That work for you?”

 _Jesus_. He hadn’t really expected him to ask so soon, if at all. He had no clue what Raylan’s experience level with men might be. Tim would have been happy to just fool around again, but now that it was out there, he thought it sounded like a pretty goddamn good idea.

“Long as you know what you’re doing.”

Raylan’s hands gripped his hips tighter as he said, “Don’t you worry ‘bout that, Timmy. I’ll take care of you.”

“Christ. Who _are_ you? 

Raylan smiled at him like he’d heard that question before, but instead of answering, he wrapped his fingers around Tim’s cock and started kissing along his jaw. Then he sat forward, pushing Tim onto his back, and reached into the bottom drawer of the bedside table for a bottle of lube. He tossed it on the bed and went back to kissing Tim, and running his hands over him. Raylan moved down and started sucking him, at the same time reaching for the bottle. 

Raylan hadn’t been lying when he said he’d take care of him. Tim relaxed under his hands as it became clear he could trust him. He was patient and considerate, and after a long while he realized that Raylan seemed to be waiting for Tim to signal that he was ready. He grabbed a handful of Raylan’s hair and tugged at it, pulling him up into a kiss. 

“Let’s get this show on the road, cowboy.”

Raylan’s eyes were hazed with lust, and he pushed Tim’s legs back hard, no longer seeming very patient at all, and that was just fine with Tim. He wasn’t feeling too patient himself anymore either. Raylan pushed into him in one motion, grunting with what sounded like relief, and Tim muttered, _”Fuck..._ ” as he began to move. 

Tim kept his eyes on Raylan’s face as he reached for himself, saw him watching, licking his lips, then saw his eyes drift shut. He didn’t mind. It let him stare more openly, take in the absolute perfection of the man who was taking him now. He reached up to Raylan’s waist, running his hands over muscles and scars, wishing he could be licking them instead. Tim looked back up at Raylan’s face, and was pleased to see no visible pain there at the moment. He looked younger in his pleasure, lines smoothed and hair mussed, and Tim thought about what he must have looked like at 19, the first time he’d been with a man. 

Tim’s own first experience had been so terrifying, yet thrilling, amazing, unforgettable. 17, drunk at the last party of the summer before senior year, he’d wandered out into the woods behind the house to take a piss. He heard someone blunder out behind him, and just after he’d zipped up, he’d felt a hand on his shoulder. He’d turned to look, and saw it was a boy he’d never spoken to, but he recognized him from school. 

He’d watched him, sometimes, and had seen the boy looking at him. These weren’t meaningful glances, nor lustful ones; they weren’t anything at all, except that there was no reason for them to be exchanging them, as they didn’t know each other. 

The other boy seemed to be as drunk as he was, and they moved at the same time, kissing each other, then running further out into the woods to do more. They’d only jerked each other off, and they never spoke again after that, but it had been enough to force Tim admit to himself what it was that he really wanted. 

Raylan must have been fucking beautiful at 19, and in love. Living in Harlan, mining coal, and in love with a boy. Tim’s own eyes slid shut at that thought, and when the images came, he didn’t try to turn them off. Boyd Crowder at 19 was harder to picture, but those crazy intense eyes were probably pretty much the same, staring into Raylan’s like there was nothing else in the world he wanted. Tim was sure that’s how the man would look at you in bed, whether he meant it or not. 

Tim stroked himself faster as he thought about the things Raylan had told him, that Crowder had been the one to speak of it first. He would have... slid an arm around his shoulders, maybe. Stroked his hair, soothed him like an animal... climbed on top of him. Talking the whole time, probably, in that soft, hypnotic voice. Kissing him, taking away his fears, showing him his desire, and his love...

 _Shit._ Tim forced his eyes open, pushing away the scene that had been playing in his head. He couldn’t believe he’d been fantasizing about Raylan’s first time with Boyd fucking Crowder, and worse, he felt on the verge of coming just from thinking about it. He let out a short, breathless laugh at his own ridiculousness, and Raylan opened his eyes. 

“Somethin’ funny?” 

Tim shook his head helplessly, knowing there was no way he could say any of that to Raylan. “No, I’m just... feeling good.”

Raylan nodded. He spoke in between thrusts, sounding like he might not last much longer. “Me too. You feel... fucking great. Haven’t done this... in a long time.” He bent down to kiss Tim then, and Tim felt him lose whatever control he might have had. Tim was ready too. He closed his eyes again as Raylan lost his rhythm, straining against him, and Tim came into his own hand and on Raylan’s stomach as he hovered over him. 

Raylan kissed him again as he pulled out, then flopped over to his side. He let out a hard breath, then an almost joyful-sounding laugh of his own, grinning at the ceiling. 

Tim looked over at him and said, “You seem pleased with yourself.”

“I’m pretty goddamn pleased with both of us. Ain’t you?”

“You’re something else, Raylan. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time. Only, it ain’t always a compliment.”

They lay quietly for a while, cooling down. Raylan’s hand was resting on Tim’s hip, and he didn’t want to move in case that might make Raylan realize he was doing it, and move it away. When Raylan did, eventually, move, he said he was going to have a drink. 

“You want to have one with me, Tim?”

“Sure, sounds good. You mind if I jump in your shower for a minute, though?”

“Go right ahead. Hell, take two minutes, if you want.”

Tim showered off as quick as he could, not wanting to stay in Raylan’s bathroom for longer than he had to. It was amazing what a slob he was, considering how put-together he looked, most of the time. 

When he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, Raylan had pulled on a pair of jeans and was sitting in the living room, sipping at his drink. There was a glass and a bottle on the coffee table, which was also supporting Raylan’s bare feet. Tim ducked into the bedroom, pulled on his own pants, went out to retrieve his shirt from the entranceway, then joined Raylan on the sofa. 

As he poured a drink for himself, Tim said, “So I’m supposed to call Boyd Crowder tomorrow for information on that fugitive. He said he didn’t know, but that he knew who to ask. Any clue who that might be?”

Raylan snorted. “Yeah, I got an idea. Pretty sure it’s sweet little Ava running the girls now, although I have no direct confirmation of that. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t lean on her unless you think you have to. It’s just gonna piss him off, and she probably won’t give you anything he wouldn’t, anyway.”

“Duly noted. That whole thing had to be kind of weird, huh? Him getting involved with someone you’d just broken up with.”

“A little.” Raylan shrugged. “But that’s Harlan. It honestly didn’t surprise me all that much, them being basically family already.”

“Does she know about the two of you?”

“Not from me. I have no idea what he’s told her. I’d tend to doubt it, but I wouldn’t be too shocked if he had. I know he trusts her, more than I ever thought I’d see a Crowder trust a woman.”

“When you found out you were coming back here, did you think things might go differently with him?”

“You know, I don’t mind telling you about all this, if you really want to hear it. But I’d love to know why you’re so interested.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s tragically romantic. Like Shakespeare, but with moonshine.”

Raylan laughed at that and scratched his head. “Well... yeah, I thought about it. How could I not? It was a big deal for me. Not that I expected... I don’t know what I expected. But when I saw him, with all that Nazi ink and spouting off at the mouth about disgusting shit I knew very well he didn’t believe, I just felt sick. I felt like a fucking idiot.”

“But you didn’t give up on him, even then.”

“He didn’t let me. Just kept turning up, like a bad penny. Eventually, I just got used to it, much as he pissed me off. And he did have my back a couple times, when he didn’t have to. That’s why this shit with Arlo caught me off guard.”

Tim sipped at his drink for a minute or so without speaking. Then he said, “You know, Raylan, I like you.”

Raylan raised an eyebrow and replied, “Okay...”

“Don’t be a dick. I know you like me too. I’m not looking for anything, and I know you’re not either. This is good the way it is.”

“Then why are you talking about it?”

“Because, Raylan, sometimes adults actually articulate their feelings and desires, and come to agreements about how they’d like things to go.”

“That’s not really my thing.”

“And yet, all your relationships work out so well.”

“Now who’s bein’ a dick?”

Tim gave a small laugh and drank some more bourbon. When he’d finished it, he said, “I guess I’ll get going.” He stood up and started to walk towards Raylan’s room for his shoes.

“You can stay, if you like,” Raylan called from the couch. 

Tim paused for a second, then went into the bedroom. When he came out, he said, “You don’t really want me to stay. So I won’t. But next time you ask, I will, so be sure you mean it.”

Raylan sat quietly and watched Tim tie his laces. When he was done, he looked at Raylan and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Raylan nodded, but said nothing. Tim started to get up, but Raylan’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. He pulled him until Tim was slightly off-balance and had to brace himself against the back of the sofa. Then Raylan kissed him in a way that made him want to seriously consider his decision to leave. When he’d released him, Raylan said, “Okay. See you tomorrow.” 

Tim said good night, and left the apartment. He was tempted to stop downstairs for another beer, but figured it might be bad form to reappear in front of Lindsey at this point, freshly showered and red-mouthed from Raylan’s stubble - tempting, but not very gentlemanly. 

He walked out into the night, thinking of Raylan’s boasts about how easily people fell for him. He’d been joking, sort of, but Tim knew there was truth to it. He had the sort of deep well of sorrow and mystery that people always found intriguing, as long as the person was beautiful to look at as well. And there was his sense of right and wrong, which was unshakable and fierce, and had nothing to do with anyone’s law but his own. 

Tim laughed at himself; he knew he was falling, there was no sense in denying it, and he knew what a bad idea it was. Raylan couldn’t be for him, would never be for him. Raylan liked him, Raylan was happy to fuck him, but Raylan would never fall in love with him. 

Tim was a person possessed of a great deal of good sense. He prided himself on it. He knew that he should stop this whole business right now, before he got any further in. But he wouldn’t. He dismissed everything his brain was telling him, and decided that there were other things more important than protecting himself at all costs.


	4. Working On a Better Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Raylan's drama and Tim's awesomeness. Just read it, you'll see.

Boyd Crowder strolled into the Marshal's office like he was walking into his own house. It seemed to Raylan like he'd felt him there before he actually saw him, though he was sure that wasn't really the case. He was on the phone, and angled himself away as Boyd approached Tim's desk. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, waiting for him to look up. 

Though Tim had certainly been aware of him standing there for a while, he made Boyd wait. When he finally did acknowledge his presence, Tim gave him a professional smile and said, “Mr. Crowder. What can I do for you?”

“It’s more about what I can do for you. I have some information which may interest you, regarding your fugitive. Seems she was in the company of another girl when she came to us, name of Tricia Mulaney. She didn’t last more than a few days, moved on.”

“Well, that could be helpful. What are you getting out of this, I wonder? I can’t imagine you’re in the business of assisting the federal government, as a matter of course.”

“Now, that’s not strictly true. I have been happy to help at several points in the past. I’ve even saved the life of one of your own, as you may recall, with very little thanks. Not that I require thanks for that, nor expect them.”

Raylan’s phone call was ending just as Boyd spoke those words, and he forced himself not to look in that direction. The thing was, he knew he’d owed Boyd his thanks for that. When Boyd had come to the office, winding him up and demanding an apology, Raylan shouted at him that he wasn’t owed that, that what he should really be looking for was a ‘thank you.’ And yet, he hadn’t even been able to give him that. He didn’t even know why, really. 

Tim raised his eyebrows at Boyd and said, “Well, not that it isn’t greatly appreciated. Of course, the fact that you had a vendetta against the man who wanted to kill Marshal Givens may have contributed somewhat to your willingness to help.”

Boyd’s cool smile twisted, ever so slightly, and he said, “Even you must know that’s not true, Marshal Gutterson.”

“I don’t feel comfortable assuming anything about you, Mr. Crowder. A man who makes his living by exploiting the weaknesses of others isn’t someone I automatically ascribe the highest of motives to.”

Boyd put a hand on the corner of Tim’s desk, leaning down and smiling in that way that said he had every possible angle covered. He spoke softly, but Raylan was sure the words were intended to carry to his desk. 

He said, “Well, Marshal, we all cast our judgements on others, all the time, without truly knowing their motivations. Yet I try not to concern myself overly much with this. We can either be happy and judged, or absolved and wretched, and I believe that choice is an easy one.”

Raylan kept his face turned away and rolled his eyes as he ground his teeth, wondering just how long it was going to take for Boyd to finish his little show and get the hell out of there. 

Boyd continued, “I know some would disagree with me. Some prefer to wallow in their own supposed virtue, hating themselves every time they fall short. That’s not much of a way to live, in my opinion. After all,” and with this, he leaned down almost inappropriately close to Tim, though Tim just gazed coolly back, “who among us is without sin? Who has not succumbed to the temptations our earthly world has to offer?”

That was enough for Raylan. He stood up, strode over to Boyd and gripped him by his upper arm. He dragged him off to the conference room, not saying a word until they were inside, and he had shoved Boyd into a chair. Predictably, Boyd looked amused, and not intimidated in the least. Raylan knew this was why he’d come here, to mess with his head and get a reaction out of him, but he didn’t understand why. Boyd was a practical person. Raylan couldn’t imagine that his reasons were personal, though unquestionably he got satisfaction from getting Raylan worked up. 

“What, exactly, do you want here, Boyd?”

“Raylan, I’m not sure what you’re imagining, but I came here to assist Marshal Gutterson with his investigation into the unfortunate Ms. Nelson. I have some information he may find useful.”

“Coulda done that on the phone. Instead, you came here, talking around the edges of something in a manner I can only interpret as vaguely threatening, at best. But I’m here to tell you, you need to let that shit go _right now._ Just forget what you know, or think you know. Give him whatever information you may have, and drive yourself back to Harlan.”

“Do you feel threatened, Raylan? I assure you, that was not my intention.”

“Whatever leverage you think you can gain from this, I goddamn well promise that it won’t outweigh the damage you’ll sustain if you get near it.”

“There’s no need to be speaking so elliptically. It’s only us here. You think you’re gonna convince anyone that something happened between you and me, twenty years ago? Forget that this information would hurt you far more than anything about you and him possibly could. These people know me. No one would believe you.”

“Oh, Johnny might. Once he gets a copy of that letter.”

Boyd’s face went slack for a moment, and he shifted slightly. “What letter might that be, Raylan?”

“There’s only one letter, Boyd.”

Boyd was silent for a few moments, staring at Raylan. Finally, he looked down and let out a small breath that was not quite a laugh. He said, “Well. I suppose that answers the question of whether you ever got it.”

Raylan was watching him, breath coming a bit harder than it should be as he leaned against the long table. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer. 

Boyd looked back up, meeting his eyes with a look that was more honest than anything he’d seen from Boyd since the time he’d come to his room, broken and lost. When he spoke again, he sounded almost confused. “You kept it?”

Raylan looked away, then, unable to look at the expression on his face. He took a breath, let it out, and said, “Just back off. Stay away from me. Stop fucking with Tim.”

Boyd looked like he’d been punched in the gut, but he slowly got up and walked toward the door. When he reached it, he turned back and said, “I don’t know whether you’ll believe this or not, Raylan, but writing that letter was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When you didn’t answer, I thought...” He trailed off, and Raylan could barely stand the way his voice sounded in that moment. “I thought you hated me.”

“Obviously, I didn’t. At the time.”

“Then why...”

“I couldn’t, Boyd. Jesus, just think about what you were asking of me. How could I - “ Raylan cut himself off, realizing he was giving Boyd just what he probably wanted. He was done playing games with this man, letting him get under his skin. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not dredging up all the ways we hurt each other, twenty years ago, just so you can get inside my head and use me for your personal gain. Again. Just get the fuck out of here.”

“You’re the one using what was between us against me.”

“Only because you forced me to do it.”

Boyd frowned and took a half-step towards Raylan before thinking better of it. He shook his head slightly and said, almost to himself, “You kept it.”

Raylan had nothing to say to that, but managed to meet Boyd’s eyes again before he turned and walked out through the office. 

Raylan refused to tell Tim anything about the conversation, and in fact spent the rest of the day speaking to him only when absolutely necessary. But after work, he let Tim take him back to his apartment and pour some bourbon into him, then take him to bed. Tim seemed to think that Raylan needed taking care of, and as much as he hated to admit it, it might be true. Under ideal circumstances, Tim would not have been his first choice for such a task, but he was the one who was there, and willing. 

So Raylan let him, he laid back and let Tim put his hands and his mouth all over him, and it felt like everything in him was being drawn in, the sadness and anger and regret, the various loves and desires in his life that he didn’t know what to do with, all being pulled together by the string of the physical pleasure he was feeling. Tim was asking nothing of him just then, and Raylan didn’t offer anything. 

When he came, all of that went with it, burst out of him with a loud, cathartic yell. He didn’t move for a minute, let the peace he was feeling wash over him, because he knew it wouldn’t last too long. When his breath was even again, he rolled over and reached for Tim, to give him his turn, but Tim just kissed him and pushed him back.

“In a little while, okay? First I want you to tell me what happened today.”

Raylan narrowed his eyes and said, “What, you need me to talk about Boyd for you to get off, or something? Is that what gets you going?”

“Honestly? It does, a little. But that’s not why, I just want to know what’s going on with you. He left the office looking like he’d seen a damn ghost, and then you were weird all day after that. What the hell did you tell him?”

Raylan rubbed at his face, feeling the tension that he’d just released begin to creep back in. “I threatened him with something. A letter he sent me, once, about a month after I left Harlan.”

Tim propped himself up on an elbow and asked, “What kind of letter?”

“He asked if he could come stay with me for a bit. Said he was thinking of leaving too. He said... that he was terrified of turning into his father, and that he thought...” Raylan closed his eyes, not sure if he could get this part out, because it was the source of so much guilt. “He said that he thought God had given him his one chance to change things by allowing him to love me.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You know how he talks. I don’t know how much of that was bullshit or not. But I was just some kid, I didn’t know myself at all. I was not in any way prepared to be anyone’s salvation. I never wrote back.”

“Why not? If just to tell him no.”

Raylan looked like he was thinking hard about that question, then suddenly his face cleared, as if he’d finally solved some impossible puzzle. “But... I didn’t want to tell him no. I didn’t want to write back unless I could say yes.”

“So...” Tim was staring at him with something like horrified fascination. “You kept the letter... for when you’d be able to say yes?”

Raylan gazed back at Tim, thinking that some time he might like to try seeing someone less insightful than himself, just so he could feel like the smart one, for once. He sighed, and said, “Something like that. You don’t have to tell me it’s crazy, I already know that.”

“Raylan, it’s just... the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Well, Timmy, that’s Harlan for you. I could probably tell you ten other stories just as sad, and if my aunt Helen were still alive, she could talk for hours on that shit.”

Tim watched him quietly for a few more seconds, then leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back a little and talked to Raylan very softly. “I don’t care about any of those other stories.” He rolled on top of Raylan, kissing him again and grinding against his hip. “You’re the only Harlan boy I give a shit about.” 

Raylan reached down and took hold of his cock, stroking it slowly and ducking his head to kiss Tim’s neck, and behind his ear. He breathed a soft laugh against the wet skin and said, “Oh, I don’t know about that. You seem awfully interested in one other one.”

Raylan felt Tim react, and he knew he was right. He smiled slightly, not really sure how to take it. He thought maybe he liked it. He was intrigued by the idea of being with someone who wasn’t terrified of his baggage, but instead seemed strangely turned on by it. His smile grew into a grin as he got an idea.

Raylan reached into the bedside table for some lube and poured it into his hand, then pumped his cock in a leisurely way, and said, “You want to hear a story, Tim?”

Tim’s voice sounded distracted as he replied, “Uh.. okay.”

“Me and Boyd, we were together, but it was real early on. It had only been a couple times, and it still seemed so good that nothing bad could touch it.” Raylan kissed Tim and rolled him over. 

Tim stared at Raylan with his eyes wide and said, “Raylan, you don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry, it ain’t sad. It’s a nice one. You want to hear it or not?”

Tim waited a beat or two, and when he answered, he sounded like he didn’t want to admit to it. But he finally replied, _”Yes._ You know I do.”

Raylan didn’t alter the slow rhythm he’d established, but he held Tim a bit more firmly, dragging his hand up and down, kissing him a few more times before he spoke again. 

“He’d been trying to get me to go in with him on some scheme or another - something independent, just some petty bullshit - and I wouldn’t do it, of course. I wanted nothing to do with any of that, which he damn well knew.” 

Raylan kissed him again, then moved down to run his tongue across one of Tim’s nipples, grinning at the man’s reaction. “So, we’re walking across a field, heading into the woods. We were hiking, I suppose, though we hadn’t actually discussed our reasons for being there. He’s giving me a bunch of crap about what a pussy I am, but laughing, you know. Just being funny. We were in a very good mood. At one point, he stops and picks a wildflower, holds it out to me. I think that was his way of calling me a girl.” 

Tim was digging his fingers into Raylan’s back now, and jerking his hips up, obviously hoping he’d pick up the pace, which Raylan did. Raylan lowered his face to the hollow of his throat and gently licked there before continuing his tale. 

“I’m sure he thought I’d get pissed. He used to like to fight about stupid shit, Boyd did, back in the days before we had real things to fight about. And maybe I would have, another time, but not that day. I looked at him holding that flower, and I thought he looked like he might mean it.”

Tim groaned and put his hand over Raylan’s. Raylan smiled and kissed him again, soft and deep. Tim said, “So what did you do?”

“I took it. Said ‘thank you.’ And smiled at him.”

Tim made some kind of desperate sound and bit into Raylan’s shoulder. “What... Jesus. What did he do, then?”

Raylan nuzzled his neck and said, “Well, what would you have done, Tim?”

Tim wrapped his leg around the back of Raylan’s knee and pulled. He said, “Me? I would have dragged you into the bushes and had my way with you.”

Raylan grinned down at him, then kissed his mouth as he jerked him faster, harder, until he gasped out a quiet, “ _Fuck!_ ” and came quickly, grabbing onto Raylan’s shoulder as he rode it out. 

Raylan rolled off to the side and watched Tim coming down, lying there all sweaty and blinking up at the ceiling. He could give him a hard time, could tease him about any number of things, but he didn’t really feel like it right then. He thought maybe he’d gotten lucky here, finding someone like Tim. He still didn’t know where it could possibly go, but he liked where it was now. And maybe it could be just a little bit more, and that would be okay too.

Tim turned his face toward Raylan and gave a sort of sheepish grin. “Was that weird for you?”

Raylan shrugged, smiling a little, and answered, “I liked it. But you know, if we’re gonna be seeing more of each other, I’m gonna run out of those stories pretty quick. What’ll you do then?”

Tim looked at him with unconcealed surprise and said, “Well... I guess I’ll just have to find something else about you that turns me on. It’ll be a challenge, but... I think I’m equal to it.”

“I was thinking I might stay here tonight. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Tim sat up then, and looked down at Raylan. He said, “Depends.”

Raylan raised his eyebrows with an almost affronted expression. “On what?”

“You snore?”

“What if I said yes?”

Tim shrugged and laughed, then said, “You want to eat? I’m sure I could find something in the fridge.”

“Okay.” Raylan reached out and trailed his fingers across Tim’s lower back, making him shiver. “We should keep our energy up.”

Tim grinned and jumped up out of bed, pulled on some pants and headed out to the kitchen. He made them grilled cheese sandwiches, and they finished off a sleeve of Thin Mints that Tim dug out of the back of his pantry cabinet. As he watched Raylan put three of the little chocolate discs in his mouth at once, he said, “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not going to be responsible for you getting fat. You’re going running with me in the morning.”

Raylan propped his foot against the edge of Tim’s chair and said, “I told you, I don’t exercise. This is just what the good lord gave me.”

Tim snorted. “If that’s true, then you are one ungrateful bastard. You should be in church every damn day saying thank you.”

“I think I’d rather go for a run.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Raylan looked at Tim and felt something like affection, and he thought about how maybe he could be good for him. He seemed like a person who could help him put things into perspective, and perspective was something he’d been sorely missing since returning to Kentucky. 

Tim grabbed some beers and they went to the living room. Tim sat on the couch as Raylan rooted through the DVDs. After a few minutes he came up an old Lee Marvin movie called _Point Blank_. He held it up and said, “I haven’t seen this in years.”

Tim grinned and said, “A classic. That’s cool, put it on and come over here.” Raylan started the movie, but he felt a little bit uncomfortable as he walked over to where Tim was sitting. Fucking and eating, and maybe sleeping, was one thing. Cuddling on the couch was something he had always thought about in the context of a serious relationship, maybe one established enough that the sex had cooled down a bit. 

Tim seemed to pick up on the weirdness, and he said, “Raylan. Don’t be stupid about this. You’ll regret it.”

Raylan raised his eyebrows as if nothing of the sort had crossed his mind, then sat right up against Tim, pulling his arm around his chest. He wasn’t going to be accused of being a coward, that was for damn sure, even if his heart might be beating a little harder than he’d like. He said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as he opened the beer Tim had set on the coffee table for him. Tim was almost certainly smiling smugly, but Raylan didn’t bother to confirm that. He just settled into him, and they watched the movie.


	5. Will I Ever Be Free?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some resolution.

Raylan left Tim sitting in his living room with a beer while he went into his bedroom to change his shirt. They had plans to go out, see some band Tim liked, playing at a bar outside of Frankfort. It was the first time they were going on anything like a real date, though they’d hung out several times in the two weeks since Raylan had first spent the night at Tim’s place. 

He heard the knock at the door as he was pulling the t-shirt over his head, and walked quickly to answer it before Tim decided to do it himself. He liked the man, and didn’t exactly want to lie to anyone, but he wasn’t looking to invite more curiosity than necessary, either.

When Raylan saw who was standing on the other side of the doorway, he was glad he had. He sighed impatiently and said, “Boyd. What the hell are you doing here?” The anger he almost always felt, these days, at the sight of his old friend, started to rise up in him. Then he got a good look at his face, and it began to dissipate. Boyd looked nervous, which was an expression Raylan thought he might have seen on his face twice, in the entire time they’d known each other. Even on occasions when Raylan was pretty sure he’d felt that way, it almost never showed itself on his face. 

“Raylan, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“No. I’m not alone, and I have plans.”

“Well, I know it ain’t the pretty bartender, because I saw her downstairs.”

“Boyd, I’m not -”

“I just need five minutes. Come outside. Then I’ll go, I’ll leave you alone.”

Raylan looked hard at him for a moment, then nodded tersely and followed Boyd down the hallway to the stairs. He briefly thought maybe he should let Tim know, but it would only be a few minutes. 

When they reached the sidewalk, Raylan leaned up against the building and Boyd stood facing him. 

“Raylan... I came here to tell you that you don’t have anything to fear from me. I would never... I would never have betrayed you like that. Not because I’m afraid of what you can do to me, but because... it’s really no different from you threatening me with that letter. I won’t do anything. I promise you.”

Raylan nodded and said, “I never wanted to... that letter...” He shook his head. “I always thought I’d talk to you about it sometime. Tell you I had it. I didn’t want it to be like that.

“I really wish I’d known that you’d kept it. I wish you’d told me when you first came back here.”

Raylan hung his head down and said, “Wouldn’t have made any difference. I waited too long.”

“Oh, Raylan. It would have made a difference to me.”

Raylan felt the distance between them swell and recede, as it had done ever since he’d come back. Sometimes the years and the differences between their lives felt so large, like a chasm, and other times they seemed like no more than a crack in a sidewalk, as if they could reach across it and clasp each other’s hands. 

He wanted to do that now, would have like to just reach out for him, but it was far too late for that. It had been too late long before he’d ever come back here. So, he just said, “Thank you.” 

“What for, Raylan?”

“For the things I should already have thanked you for.”

Boyd smiled and said, “Raylan, you don’t have to thank me for that. I never wanted you to. You don’t need to thank a friend for saving your life.”

Raylan grimaced, knowing that what he was saying was false. They weren’t friends, hadn’t been for so long. But he didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to tell him that, yet again. Didn’t want to hurt him. He said, “Also... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“For all those other things. For... for treating you like you were someone I didn’t know. For never...” Raylan felt himself losing it, a little. But he had to say this, and he had to do it now, because there would be no other time. “For not answering that letter.”

“It’s okay, Raylan. I know why. I understand.”

“You know... I loved you as much as I was able to.”

“I _know_. I know that.”

“It was a lot. Even though I never said it. It really was. It just...”

“Wasn’t enough. I know. Raylan, my choices were not your responsibility. Whatever you think of the way I live my life, you are not to blame for it. I was wrong to make it sound like that, but I was just a child then. As were you. It’s okay. You can let it go now.”

“The letter?”

“The guilt, Raylan. You should keep the letter, though. So...” As Boyd trailed off, Raylan could see his eyes sparkling a little under the lights, and he looked down. He looked up when he heard Boyd’s voice again, stronger now. “So you won’t forget.”

“I couldn’t. You must know that.”

Boyd smiled at him then, and said, “Thank you for saying so.”

Raylan gestured vaguely toward the door and said, “I should get back upstairs.”

“Yeah, alright. That boy likes you a lot. You know that, right?”

Raylan just shrugged and looked away, embarrassed.

Boyd grinned and shook his head at him. “Try not to hurt him too bad.”

“I always try, Boyd.”

Boyd rolled eyes and started walking away. He turned back once and said, “I’ll see you around, Raylan.”

Raylan lifted a hand in farewell and promised, “You will,” before heading back inside and up the stairs.

Tim was still on the sofa when he came back in, and Raylan felt a stab of guilt. He walked over and sat down, poured a drink for himself, and said, “I’m sorry, I should have told you where I was going.”

Tim shrugged. “I figured you were probably coming back.” He finished off the beer in his hand and said, “What did he want?”

Without thinking about it, Raylan said, “He wanted to forgive me.”

“I see. Did you let him?”

“Yeah.” Raylan looked up with an almost surprised smile. “I did.”

“That’s good, Raylan. Did you forgive him?”

“He knew better than to ask for that.”

Tim snorted, stood up, and leaned over Raylan to kiss him. “We ought to get going.”

Raylan drained his glass, set it down and pulled Tim into his lap. “Okay. In a minute.” 

 

***************

Boyd walked away from Raylan, reached his truck and climbed in. On the drive back to Harlan, he thought about the last time Raylan had touched him with any kind of affection. Raylan had summoned him, asked him to come to Lexington. Things had been tense between them for some time, but the worst of it hadn’t gone down yet. He’d been so surprised to hear from Raylan, but so glad.

He’d walked into the bar to see Raylan sitting with the other Marshal, and had realized immediately how drunk he was. He’d pulled Raylan out of there, pushed him up the stairs and into his room. 

Boyd sat down next to him on the bed and slid the jacket from his shoulders. Raylan just grinned at him, drunkenly, and then laid down. As Boyd moved to take his boots off, Raylan reached out a hand and placed it on his back, not moving it or doing anything else, just leaving it there, warm and solid. 

Boyd started talking, just so he could stop focusing on that hand.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to hanging with you anymore. Maybe I thought you weren’t coming.”

“You should have known better than that, Raylan.”

When he’d gotten the boots off, Boyd twisted around to look at him, and Raylan’s hand slid off him and onto the covers.

“Hey Boyd, you remember us talking about The Scarlet Letter?”

“Good lord. What on earth made you think of that?”

“You got so mad at me when I told you I only ever read the Cliffs Notes in school. You bugged me about it for a week before I let you push your copy on me.”

“Yeah, I remember that. As I recall... you never told me if you’d read it.”

“I didn’t, ‘til after I left. I loved it, Boyd. It made me think of you the whole time.”

Boyd looked down at Raylan, thinking he should really leave as soon as he could. He shouldn’t be hearing any of this. He got up and filled a glass of water in the bathroom, glancing at the ultrasound picture on the mirror, then brought it back to Raylan. 

“Sit up, boy. You need to drink this before you go to sleep.”

Raylan obeyed, and Boyd hoped he’d forgotten about the conversation they’d been having. He hadn’t, though, and after drinking some of the water, he said, “I still have that book. It’s in a box in the closet.” 

He looked at Boyd like there was something he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t quite get there. Boyd didn’t know if it was because he was so fucked up, or because whatever he wanted to say was too hard. Boyd just nodded at him until Raylan said, “You want it back? I don’t know how much longer I can hold onto it.”

Boyd frowned, because he knew there was no way Raylan would think he’d care about some paperback he’d stolen from his high school English classroom. “No, not really,” he said, “but you can throw it out if you don’t want to keep it.”

“No... can’t do that.”

Boyd nodded, and he felt like he was close to understanding what Raylan was saying with this, but the boy was pretty drunk, so who knew what was going through his mind.

He took the glass out of Raylan’s hand and set it on the nightstand. “I have to go now, Raylan.”

“Boyd...” Raylan took hold of his arm, just above the elbow, and for a matter of seconds - just a few - Boyd forgot himself. He leaned in and kissed him, softly and chastely, and felt all filled up for a brief moment. Then he pulled back to see Raylan staring at him, eyes half-lidded and hazy, and he felt far emptier than he had before. 

He’d left quickly after that, turning off the light as he exited the room. He didn’t think Raylan would remember the kiss, and mostly hoped he wouldn’t. 

Driving back to Harlan tonight, Boyd thought about that book, which was probably still sitting in the same box, tucked away in the corner of Raylan’s closet. Never looked at, but never quite forgotten. 

He laughed out loud when he realized what that had all been about, and that if the time ever came when he needed to find that letter, he’d know exactly where to look.


	6. Keep My Head Afloat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim learns that things are not exactly what he thought they were.

Tim woke up crowded onto the very edge of the bed, with Raylan's arm in his face. He gave him a shove so he'd roll over - it was way too early to wake up, only a little after four AM - but instead he took the arm out of Tim's face and wrapped it around his torso, then pulled him over on top of himself. 

Tim was not really in the mood. He was tired, and he could never seem to drink bourbon and recover as well as Raylan did, or at least pretended to. He should stick to vodka and beer and just ignore Raylan's rolly eyes. 

Nevertheless, he could feel Raylan's morning erection pushing into his abdomen, and his hands roaming over his body, and that was enough to start changing his mind. 

Tim knew he didn't have the energy for some big production, and judging from Raylan's sleepy smile in the early morning gloom, he seemed to feel the same way. They gave each other half-awake hand jobs, both of them coming silently, eyes closed, amid soft kisses.

They had been seeing each other regularly for about six months, but they hadn't defined anything, or god forbid said anything like "I love you." No one knew about the relationship, for obvious reasons. 

They didn't know how far it was going to go, or how long, so there was no point in disrupting their work situation. Not to mention that neither of them was out, and everyone thought of Raylan as a pussy hound anyway, and not without cause. Tim thought some of that was just Raylan's inability to resist people's desire for him.

Somehow, though, Tim got the feeling people would be less surprised about Raylan than they would about him. People would probably be surprised he had any kind of sex life at all, he thought. 

Tim got up to shower and left Raylan to fall back to sleep. When he came out of the bathroom, he quietly pulled on sweats and running shoes and watched Raylan snoring quietly in his bed. He looked younger when asleep, his face relaxed, almost sweet-looking, though Tim would never say such a thing to him. 

Raylan seemed uncomfortable with excessive affection, at least from him, so he held back a lot. Occasionally, Raylan would say something that seemed to invite it, but mostly seemed to prefer it if Tim responded with a laugh or a sarcastic comment. 

Raylan woke up while Tim was staring at him. He rubbed his face and said, "You see something you like?"

Tim snorted and replied, "I see some geezer in my bed who should be getting up to run with me." 

Raylan grunted and turned over, pulling the covers over his head. Tim grinned to himself and went for his run. 

When he got back Raylan was sitting at the kitchen table with coffee, dressed for work with his gun already holstered on his hip. Tim drank a glass of water, then poured himself a cup of coffee. 

"I won't be able to do anything on Saturday," Raylan said. "I'm going out to Arlo's house and go through shit, see if there's anything I want to take before the county takes it for back taxes."

Tim was a little surprised Raylan would even entertain the idea that there might be something he'd want from his childhood home, but he asked, "Are they going to do that?"

"Well, I certainly haven't been paying them. Anyway, there's probably nothing I want, but I feel like I should take a look just in case." 

His face was set in an expression that Tim recognized as a signal to back off and stop asking questions, but Tim asked one more anyway. "You want a hand with that? I can come along."

Raylan looked at him for a few seconds, and Tim could see him fighting with himself. He waited, and finally he shrugged and said, "Alright. I'll pick you up around nine and we can head out there. I should warn you, though, I might act like an asshole. You can't come if you're gonna take that shit personally."

Tim put his coffee down and smiled at him. "Who are you talking to, man? Like I haven't been taking your shit for years now?"

"Sure, but most of that was before we were..." Raylan made a face that clearly indicated that he regretted starting that sentence. 

Tim didn't want to press him on anything at the moment, so he just got up and kissed him before rinsing his coffee cup at the sink. "I need to get a shower. You gonna head into work soon?"

Raylan stood and picked his hat up off the table. "Yep. I'll see you there." He settled the hat on his head, unironic and effortlessly sexy. Tim couldn't think of another person he knew who could pull off that hat. 

On Saturday morning, Tim was ready to go when Raylan knocked, only a little bit late. He had a sour look on his face already, which Tim knew was not for him. 

"You want coffee before we go, Raylan?" 

"Nope," he said, "Let's get it over with."

They drove to Harlan, mostly talking about work on the way. When they pulled up into the gravel drive of the old, indifferently cared for house, Tim could see the tension in Raylan's face. He sat for a moment before getting out and walking resolutely to the front door.

When they got inside, it was immediately obvious that things weren't right. There were dishes in the rack by the sink, and the kitchen smelled like coffee had been brewed in there much more recently than made any sense.

"What the fuck?" Raylan said quietly. They moved into the living room. There wasn't anything that seemed immediately out of place, but it didn't have the abandoned feel that it should have had, with Arlo in prison for half a year. 

Raylan was looking around with a deep frown on his face. Tim picked up a paperback from an end table and held it up. "Somehow Arlo never struck me as a Paul Auster fan."

Raylan was still glancing around the room and sounded distracted as he said, "Who?" Then he looked over at Tim and his expression sharpened. "Oh, shit. Are you kidding me?" He walked over and pulled the book from Tim's hand. He looked at it for a minute, thumbing through the pages without reading, then threw it on the coffee table. 

He stalked out of the room and through the rest of the first floor, but didn't find anything else. Finally, he stood in the hallway, grinding his teeth, and looked at Tim with wide, angry eyes. 

Tim shrugged and said reasonably, "Raylan, you don't know for certain that anyone's been using the place. Maybe that book was left there from months ago. You don't even know that it was-"

"Tim." Raylan's voice brooked no argument, and Tim wasn't even sure what the point would be of arguing about it anyway. The situation was almost certainly what Raylan thought it was. Raylan continued, "We're going to go up to the attic and see if there's anything I want. Then we'll check the basement. Then we'll get the fuck out of here, and I will worry about what the _fuck_ Boyd Crowder is using my father's house for, later."

Tim just nodded and followed him up the stairs. The attic was a mess, dusty boxes piled with random junk that had been hidden up here with no organization or care. Raylan have a disgusted sigh when he saw it, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. 

"Okay, it's a mess," Tim said, "but we can get through it without too much trouble. Here, we can start over in that corner..." Tim found some empty crates, and got them started sorting things out in an organized way. 

Raylan had already said he wasn't interested in any furniture or clothing, but other than that he wasn't sure. Probably nothing, he'd said, but Tim didn't think they'd be there if he really believed that. 

He used his best judgement and dismissed almost everything he came across. Old Christmas decorations, rusted tools, a chipped and stained set of cheap dishes, most of the stuff was just useless crap. He came across a hand-knitted afghan and asked Raylan about it, who shrugged. Tim set that aside to revisit later, and kept sifting through layers and years of the garbage generated by a long, sad life. 

After awhile, he noticed that Raylan had stopped making progress in his area, and was staring into an open cardboard box. He looked up when he realized Tim was watching him, and said, "Just some old pictures. Guess I'll take these."

Tim got up and stretched, then wandered over to sit next to Raylan. He reached in and pulled out a stack of photos. He saw a bunch of people he didn't recognize, but among them was a snapshot of a lovely, very young woman with Raylan's eyes and a beehive hairdo, standing on the arm of a dark-haired and surprisingly pleasant- looking Arlo Givens. 

"Your mother was really beautiful, Raylan," Tim said, holding up the photo.

"Not by the time I remember her," Raylan answered, not inviting any further discussion on the matter. 

The next picture that caught Tim's eye was of two young boys, only about 8 years old, but both of them clearly recognizable. 

Raylan had on hideous orange and brown plaid pants, a turtleneck, and a threadbare jacket that was too small for him. Boyd was wearing cords, a sort of western-style shirt and work boots. He had no jacket on, but didn't look uncomfortable. His arm was slung around Raylan's neck, and his eyes seemed to be looking right through you. 

Tim showed it to Raylan and asked when it was taken. Raylan took it from him, looked at it for a second and said, "That's from the fall of 1977. Third grade."

"Who took it?" Tim could see the way Raylan was looking at him, and he knew the man thought his interest in this relationship was hard to understand, at best, if not just plain weird. Still, he said nothing as he waited for Raylan to answer.

"My mother, undoubtedly. Arlo wasn't really the photo-snapping kind of daddy. I guess it could have been Helen, if she was around. I don't remember. But I do remember why Boyd was hanging around that day. He heard about some supposed buried bootlegger loot that was in an old mine in hiking distance of this place, and he wanted me to come with him and try to find it."

Tim grinned at the thought of the two of them going off on some ridiculous little boy adventure. He looked at the picture again and realized he'd come to feel some sadness for the man Boyd Crowder had become. He'd obviously once had other potentials than the one he'd lived up to. He was a cute kid, too. 

"So did you?"

Raylan laughed shortly and said, "Did we find the loot?"

"No, man. Did you go with him to look for it?"

"Oh... yeah," Raylan said, "He said if we found it we could run away somewhere better."

Tim watched him process that statement, which he'd said in an unthinking way, simply reporting the statement. He must have started thinking of what came later, but he dismissed it with a slight wince and a barely perceptible shrug. 

He looked at Tim and said, "We were only 8. I don't think he was hopelessly in love with me just yet." He threw the snapshot back into the box and set the whole thing aside. 

They spent the next few hours working their way through the attic, and then the basement. In the end, Raylan decided to take only the photos, the blanket Tim had found, and an old baseball glove he'd found in a crate in the basement. As they were coming down from the attic with the boxes, they heard someone coming in the kitchen door. 

They set the things down quietly in the second floor hallway, pulled their guns and moved toward the stairs. Tim was in front, and when he got to the head of the stairs and looked down, he saw Boyd Crowder standing at the foot of them, hands up at his shoulders, with a cheerful-looking grin on his face. 

"I ain't armed," he called up to them. I saw your car in the drive, I ain't looking for trouble, Marshals."

They went downstairs cautiously, not reholstering their weapons until they were on the same floor. Boyd had backed further away and stood with his hands out to his sides. 

Raylan snarled at him, saying, "Just what in the the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Boyd smiled calmly and replied, "Well, Raylan, as it happens, I am here by the express permission and indeed invitation of the owner of this domicile. I have keys, no breaking and entering has occurred. In fact, if we were to get technical, I think the two of you would be the ones considered trespassers in this situation."

Tim could feel the anger coming off of Raylan in waves. He knew it wasn't just anger, either, that he'd been hurt badly by what had happened, the realization of how deeply his father despised him and the betrayal of Boyd Crowder's willingness to exploit that. Raylan would probably just say he was pissed off, though. 

Raylan inclined his head slightly toward Boyd, fixed him with an intense gaze and spoke in a low, menacing voice. "I don't give a shit if that pathetic old fuck gave you permission to come here. I'm telling you to get the hell out, or I am going to fuck you up. And when I find out what nefarious purposes you've been using this place for, I guarantee you ain't gonna have them keys anymore."

Tim pushed down a grin at Raylan's immediate grammatical regression. The first time he'd noticed it, he'd thought it was just him being drunk, but apparently there was a direct correlation to the proximity of Boyd Crowder. 

"Alright, Raylan," Boyd said calmly. "I'll go. But what are you gentlemen doing here, anyway? Business or pleasure?" His eyes sparked with laughter as he looked between them. 

" _Boyd,_ " Raylan said, obviously at the end of his rope with this. Tim knew he had to step in before it escalated. 

"Mr. Crowder, I think you know by now that idle threats aren't really his thing. You really need to go now."

Boyd eyed the boxes they'd left at the top of the steps, then looked back at Raylan. "You wouldn't be stealing from my dear friend Arlo, now would you?"

That was the limit of what Raylan was willing, or maybe able, to take. He took a swing at him, which Boyd dodged, then grabbed for him and took him down. Raylan knelt up and pulled back his fist to punch him in the face, but Boyd had completely stopped struggling. 

He had his hands on the tops of Raylan's thighs and was gazing up at him as if Raylan had an entirely different purpose for being on top of him. 

Raylan made an angry, disgusted sound and said, "Fuck you, asshole," as he got up. Boyd grinned at the ceiling before getting up himself.

Tim had been watching these events happen and feeling like he was seeing one of his fantasies unfold before his eyes. Crowder looked almost as turned on as he was, but Raylan only looked very, very angry. 

Boyd brushed himself off and said, "You do what you need to do, Raylan. But I'm the one paying the electrical bills and keeping up the taxes on this place. You couldn't be bothered, and I understand why. I truly do. But I fail to see what kind of claim you have on this house. You don't even want it."

Raylan's mouth was pinched and his eyes flashed at Boyd, but he didn't answer him. It was obvious that Crowder was trying to provoke him, but Tim didn't really understand why. It didn't seem exactly malicious, more like playful, except that he had to know Raylan would take it badly. 

Raylan turned around and walked up the stairs, retrieved the boxes and went out to the truck. Boyd still stood there in the living room, glancing around, his gaze occasionally landing on Tim. Tim raised his eyebrows in a question, and Boyd smiled rather warmly. 

"I'm pleasantly surprised to see you still hanging around, Marshal Gutterson." He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure something out. "Raylan has a definite type in women, but he seems to be a bit less particular about the boys."

"Apparently," Tim said, flicking his eyes quickly over Boyd. 

Boyd's smile turned somewhat edgier, and he regarded Tim with sharp eyes until Raylan walked back in. "We ain't leaving until you're gone, Boyd."

Boyd shrugged casually and turned to walk out. "I'll just come back, you know."

It was almost like he wanted to get hit. This idea, once it had occurred to Tim, seemed like the obvious truth. He wanted Raylan to touch him, even if it was in violence. _Jesus Christ_ , Tim thought. 

They watched him drive off, then got into the car and left. It was mid-afternoon and neither of them had eaten anything all day except for a couple of donuts that Raylan had picked up on the way over to Tim's. 

They went to get barbecue, then drove back to Lexington. Neither of them brought up what had happened, and Raylan barely spoke the whole drive back. 

When they got to Tim's place, Raylan pulled up in front of the building and let the engine idle. 

"You're not coming in?" he asked, a little surprised. He didn't think Raylan would want to be alone that night. 

"I'm not any kind of decent company tonight, Tim. Maybe tomorrow night, huh?" 

Tim looked at him, staring straight ahead with a tense, unhappy expression on his face. He knew he could make Raylan feel better, if he got the chance to. He'd done it before. 

"Raylan," he said, putting his hand on Raylan's arm, "will you look at me for a minute?" 

Raylan looked over, and Tim said, "I don't need to be entertained. And I'm not about to try to force you to talk about anything you don't want to. If you want to just have a drink and go, that's okay. Come on."

Raylan leaned his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes. "Aren't you getting sick of this yet? Why would you want to deal with all my bullshit?"

"No," Tim said quietly, "I'm not sick of it. I'm not in the habit of dealing with bullshit that I don't feel like dealing with, Raylan. If it didn't seem worth it, I wouldn't do it."

Raylan didn't reply, but he put the car in drive and parked it in a visitors spot. They walked toward the building, and as they crossed the parking lot, Raylan put an arm across his back and squeezed his shoulder. Tim smiled at him quickly, then looked away. Raylan never did things like that.

Raylan sat on the sofa and Tim brought him a drink, then sat down next to him with a beer. Raylan drank his bourbon quickly, then set down his glass and took Tim's bottle away from him. He lay down on the couch, pulled Tim on top of himself and said, "This is the best thing that's happened to me all day."

Tim kissed him, and Raylan put his hands all over him, and they didn't do much else for a long time. Finally, Tim asked, "Do you want to go to bed? I got an idea how I might be able to improve your mood."

Raylan grinned and wrapped an arm around him. "You already have. But okay, I like the sound of that. Let's go."

They made their way back to the bedroom and undressed, then lay down under the covers and wrapped themselves together. 

"Raylan," Tim said, breathing into his ear, "I have a confession."

"Uhhhh... alright," Raylan answered warily. 

"At the house, today... when you and Crowder got into that fight... I, uh..." 

Raylan rolled his eyes and took hold of Tim's cock, which was suddenly very hard. "I get the picture."

"He wanted you. I could see it," Tim panted, watching Raylan's face carefully.

"Wrong. He wanted to make me, and you, uncomfortable. But he only managed one of those things, because he didn't realize what a freaky kid you were." Raylan's mouth pulled up in a half-smile when he said that, and Tim ran his thumb across his lips. 

"He kept trying to provoke you. He wanted you to try to hit him again. He wanted you to take him down." Tim's dick was leaking pre-come and Raylan smoothed it down the shaft, then pulled up slowly. Tim moaned. 

"You think so, huh?" Raylan said. "Well, that makes sense. He always used to like it rough. Always wanted me to bite him, and fuck him without hardly doing anything first. He liked it when I hurt him." Raylan was stroking Tim faster as he said these things, and Tim sunk his face into Raylan's neck, making small helpless noises. 

He managed to get out, "Do you think he'll jerk off about today, later on?" Just saying that almost pushed him over the edge, but Raylan's answer made it impossible to hold back any longer. 

He said, "I bet he did it in the car on the way outta there," and Tim whispered, _oh, fuckfuckFUCK_ as he came hard into Raylan's hand. 

Raylan kissed him, then rolled over on top of him. He positioned himself so his dick was between Tim's thighs and started moving slowly. 

"You don't want me to suck you off?" Tim asked, surprised again. Raylan had been acting a little oddly all day. 

He shook his head and kissed Tim again. "I'm good. You want to ask me anything else?"

Tim raised his eyebrows at him, but did his best to keep his reaction to himself. He didn't want to scare Raylan off of something that he was obviously not that comfortable admitting he wanted, especially when it was something Tim loved so much. 

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to be with him now?"

Raylan stopped moving immediately and frowned down at him. "Be with him? Fuck no, are you shitting me?"

Tim almost laughed, his reaction was so serious. "No, man. I just meant fool around with him. Suck his dick. Fuck him."

Raylan couldn't hide his reaction to that. He closed his eyes and pulled Tim in tighter by the hips. "Once or twice."

"Today?" Tim felt himself getting hard again, and he pulled at Raylan's shoulders until he lay flush against him. 

"Maybe. I could have given him just what he liked, I was so goddamn angry. Back then, I didn't like to, because I loved him. But I did sometimes anyway, 'cause he begged me. Now I fucking hate him. I could hurt him easy."

"Oh god, Raylan. Will you fuck me? I want you to, okay?"

"You don't want me to hurt you, do you? I don't really want to." Raylan was looking down at him with some concern, and Tim could understand it. It wasn't much of a stretch to think a guy who got off on hearing about his boyfriend having sex with his ex might be into somewhat darker shit. 

Not that Raylan was his boyfriend, for Christ's sake. He needed to watch that shit or he was going to say it to Raylan some time and freak him out. 

"No," he answered, "Make it good like you always do."

Raylan went down and sucked him until he was completely hard, then went lower and used his tongue until Tim was ready to beg for more. 

Raylan started fucking him much less carefully than he normally did. He seemed on the edge of control from the beginning, gritting his teeth as he moved in and out, his breathing erratic. It was making Tim crazy to see him so desperate.

"I wish I could see it," Tim blurted out, and Raylan looked down at him sharply. 

" _What?_ "

"You and him. Crowder. _Boyd._ I wish I could watch you with him."

"Tim," Raylan started, "That's-"

"Impossible. Yeah. I know. But still. I bet he looks so good naked. Except for that fucking awful tattoo... but even that... no, that's weird. Never mind that. But I'd love to see you get on your knees for him, _fuck_ that would be hot." Raylan had started moving faster, and Tim was jerking off in earnest now. He could tell it wouldn't be long. 

"What if I let him fuck me? Would you want to see that?" Tim gasped at that, and he almost came right then. Raylan had never asked Tim to do that, and Tim had just assumed he didn't like it. Raylan had never talked about doing it with Crowder in the past, either, even though he'd told him plenty of other things.

"Oh fuck yes. Did you do that with him?"

"Just once. Oh, shit, Tim... I'm gonna come..." He reached down to wrap his hand around the one Tim had on his cock, and pushed in hard a few times until he let out a long groan of release. Tim came before he was finished, and Raylan pulled him in close, not speaking for a few minutes. 

"Raylan?" Tim asked after awhile, "You alright?"

"That... That didn't feel right. I feel like I need to apologize."

"Jesus, why? That was hot as hell, man. I loved it." Tim had pulled his head back so he could look at him, and Raylan's face was tense with guilt, or worry, or something. 

Raylan shook his head and looked away. "I don't get you. Why would you... I mean, shit, Tim. Sometimes I think you like me a lot. So why do you want me to be thinking about someone else when I'm fucking you?"

"I do like you, Raylan. A lot, yeah. And I don't really know why I like that so much. It's not like I ask you for it every time. And anyway, you were doing some of the asking tonight, in case you didn't notice."

"Yeah, I fucking noticed." Raylan had pulled away and was sitting up now. He was speaking in an almost angry way, but Tim thought he sounded distressed more than anything. "That's what bothers me. I don't want to bring that into this, not for myself, anyway. That shit is old and dead, Tim. It makes me feel like I just fucked a goddamn ghost."

Tim sat up next to him and placed a hand in the middle of his back. "Okay. Okay," he said softly. "I'm sorry. Listen, I do know why I like it. You want to hear?"

Raylan nodded, and he went on, "I always thought of you one way, and I saw all of the shit that happened between you and him since you came back here in the context of him just being some guy you sort of knew a long time ago. And I thought that was shitty for you, because even though you said you weren't friends, anyone could see there was some kind of connection there."

Raylan lay back on his pillow and pulled Tim down with him. Tim rested on his shoulder and kept talking. "You telling me what you told me, it just upended everything. It was hard to get my head around it, but I could see it real clearly, because of the way you talked about it. In my head, it just looked so perfectly beautiful, and so hot and terrifying and fucking exhilarating, and it hit a nerve for me. And Raylan, from what I saw today, it might be old, but there's no way it's dead. Not all the way. It's lying there on the floor struggling to breathe, maybe, but it's not gone yet."

"Jesus Christ, Tim," Raylan muttered.

"Sorry," Tim said, though he didn't sound all that remorseful, "Anyway, it just lodged itself in my brain, I guess. It's not about him, or about me, even. It's about you, how I see you, how I'm trying to understand you."

"It doesn't make you feel... like I don't..." Raylan sighed in frustration, and Tim didn't think it was because he couldn't find the words. He just didn't want to say them.

"No. It doesn't. I don't worry about shit I can't control, the way you do. 

Raylan looked at him for a moment, then said, "Alright. But I need to take a break for awhile."

Tim felt a jolt in his stomach, and he asked, "From me?"

Raylan looked at him like he was an idiot. "No, stupid. Why would I want to take a break from you? Just quit with the..." He made a vague gesture with his hand and bugged out his eyes. 

"Okay, Raylan. That's cool. I can definitely do that. You want to do it again, just the two of us?"

Raylan snorted and said, "You're in for a rude awakening in about ten years or so, kid. Maybe later."

Tim cooked them some steaks and made a salad, and later they fell asleep in front of the TV. Sometime around midnight, Tim woke up with a sore neck and Raylan's head in his lap. He stroked his fingers through his hair until Raylan stirred, but instead of getting up, he just burrowed in closer. 

If Raylan thought that was going to have the effect of Tim letting him go on sleeping, he'd obviously made a serious miscalculation. Tim was suddenly wide awake, and reached down to unzip his pants. Raylan laughed tiredly, but gave him an accommodating, albeit somewhat lackluster blowjob. 

Tim made a move to reciprocate, but Raylan waved him off and they stumbled back to the bedroom to sleep.

The next morning, they went out to breakfast. For the most part, they had stopped feeling nervous about the possibility of anyone seeing them together. It had been six months and it hadn't happened yet, so they'd gotten pretty relaxed about it. So of course, when it finally happened, they were caught completely off guard. 

Raylan was in the process of stealing from Tim's plate of chicken and waffles, when Rachel Brooks came in with a good-looking guy and sat down two tables over. She and Tim made eye contact almost accidentally, and Raylan saw her at almost the same moment. They all froze in place for a couple of seconds, and then Raylan sighed and ate the chicken he had on his fork. 

He looked at Tim and said, "Well... she probably knew anyway." He waved at Rachel and she nodded at him. 

They spent the rest of their meal not looking over at her table, and left as soon as possible. 

On Monday morning, Rachel acted like nothing was different, and Tim figured she either she really didn't care, or she'd already figured it out, or else she'd rather just pretend it never happened. Possibly, it was a combination of all three.

Raylan, while not exactly avoiding Tim, was behaving in a suspiciously professional manner. Around mid-morning, Raylan got a tip about a fugitive he'd been looking for over the last week, and Rachel volunteered to go with him. 

He shot Tim a rueful glance as they left the office, and Tim was unable to suppress the laugh that came on him suddenly at the thought of the awkwardness that was about to ensue. He couldn't wait to hear about it. 

Late in the afternoon, a report came in about a man named Wesley Macon who'd arrived in the emergency room at Harlan ARH, having been shot in both legs and badly beaten. He'd been a fringe member of Bo Crowder's organization, but on the outs with Boyd. He claimed to have information about Boyd's activities, and he'd told the local PD to call Raylan Givens at the Marshals. 

Tim grimaced. He didn't really want to drive all the way down to Harlan this late in the day on what was probably a wild goose chase. On the other hand, he hadn't made plans with Raylan, and Tim got the feeling he wanted a couple nights off after the intense weekend, capped off by Rachel seeing them on Sunday morning. 

He also thought he'd probably have to go talk to Crowder after meeting with this man, and that thought gave him a little thrill that he felt in his gut. And possibly elsewhere, if he was being completely honest. 

The tip turned out to be every inch the bullshit Tim had expected it to be. Macon had no real information, only shit he'd heard around - most of which they already knew and couldn't prove, and the rest not at all credible. 

Tim knew he should simply get back in his car and drive home. Maybe he'd even swallow his pride and call Raylan. He even started driving in the direction of the highway for about five minutes before turning around and heading towards the bar Crowder operated from. 

When he arrived, the place was just starting to fill up. Ava Crowder was working behind the bar, and he didn't see Boyd anywhere. He spotted Johnny Crowder at a table, and went over to ask him where Boyd was. 

"He's in the office, Marshal," Johnny said laconically, "going over some accounts. He's real busy, but I'd be happy to pass on a message."

"Yeah, I'd just as soon tell him in person, Mr. Crowder. I'll head on back."

"Suit y'self," Johnny said, shrugging, pulled out a cell phone and dialed as Tim walked to the back of the bar. 

Boyd Crowder opened the door of the office as soon as he knocked, giving him a smile that looked almost warm, but somehow mocking at the same time. 

"Marshal Gutterson, what an unexpected surprise. Please come in. Now, I would feel remiss if I did not offer you a drink, seeing as you are a guest in my establishment, though you strike me as a bit more concerned with propriety than our friend Raylan." He leaned against the desk with his hands in his pockets, looking up expectantly. 

"No, thank you. I just need to ask you a few questions and I'll be on my way." 

"Well, I hope you don't feel as if I'm rushing you out the door. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Stick around, drink, get a feel for our local culture." Tim could see that he was amused, and suddenly he just wanted to get this over with. He didn't like feeling at a disadvantage, and he always did with this man. 

"Uh huh," he muttered, "well anyway, are you familiar with a man named Wesley Macon?"

Boyd's grin grew a little wider and more insincere, and he said, "I am. He worked for my father. How is old Wes?" 

"Not too well," Tim replied, "He's in the hospital with broken ribs, a couple of missing teeth and two gunshot wounds to the legs."

"And you think I might have had something to do with that? Well I do hate to disappoint you, Marshal, but I must. He stopped working for my father when he became unreliable, sampling too much of the drug he unfortunately sold to the people of this county. He has never worked for me, and I have no knowledge of this incident. I can't say I'm very surprised, though."

Tim nodded, believing him because for once, he had no reason not to. "Alright. I'll be in touch if I have any more questions."

"Please don't think you need a pretext to come around, Marshal." Boyd stood up from where he was leaning and walked toward Tim slowly, like some predatory cat. "Much as I enjoyed it when Raylan would come down here, I've come to look forward to your visits as well."

"This wasn't a social call, Mr. Crowder." 

"Exactly my point," Boyd looked at him like he was making up his mind about something. Then he said, "Now that our business is concluded, we can speak on more personal matters."

"Sadly, I'll have to take a rain check on that," Tim said, suddenly nervous but careful not to show it. "Maybe next time."

"But I must apologize for the unfortunate scene at Raylan's father's house the other day. Sometimes, I must admit, I feel compelled to provoke him to anger. It's an old habit, one which has long since lost its usefulness. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Tim thought about Raylan's take on that topic, and almost laughed. "Nope," he said, "It's not like pissing Raylan off is some kind of high-level skill." He started to move toward the door, but Boyd moved past him quickly and cut him off, brushing his side as he went. 

"You have a point there, Marshal. But I know he doesn't enjoy getting angry nearly as much as I enjoy making him that way. I hope he didn't take it out on you." Boyd was looking at him intently, obviously gauging his reaction, and Tim was not at all sure that he didn't give himself away. 

"Look, Mr. Crowder-"

"Feel free call me Boyd when you're not accusing me of assault, Marshal," he said with a pleasant smile.

"No," Tim replied shortly. 

Boyd grinned like Tim had just confirmed something he'd already suspected and said, "Alright. I can work with that. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell Raylan, anytime he needs something from Arlo's house, just give me a call. I'll be happy to fetch it for him. I know it ain't his favorite place to be."

"I'm not telling him that."

Boyd laughed without surprise, and stood aside so Tim could leave. 

Tim's cell started buzzing as he walked out into the gravel lot. He was surprised to see it was Raylan, although there weren't many other people it could be. 

"Hey," Tim said, opening his car door and sliding in. 

"Hey. You want to come over?"

For a second, Tim was shocked into silence. Raylan didn't do this, ever. They rarely made any kind of plans; most of the time they would go for a drink after work and just "end up" in one of their beds. On weekends they sometimes went out on what could be considered dates - to dinner or to see a band play, something like that, but always at Tim's instigation. Raylan usually said yes, but he was very passive about the whole thing.

His first thought was that something must be wrong, but he'd heard Raylan's voice when he was sad, anxious, angry, and it didn't sound like any of those things. Tim didn't think this was possible, but if he had to say what it sounded like, he'd say nervous. 

Tim was quick to reassure him just in case, somehow, Raylan might have thought he didn't want to see him. "I'd love to, man, but it'll be awhile. I had to drive to Harlan and I'm just leaving now."

"Oh yeah? What for?" Raylan sounded slightly distracted, and Tim could hear rustling fabric. It sounded like Raylan was taking off his tie, and maybe changing out of his work shirt. Now Tim wished he had put this task off until the morning.

"I'll tell you all about it when I see you, though it's mostly pretty boring shit. I'll head straight to your place, okay?"

"Okay, Timmy. I'll meet you in the bar."

Tim winced involuntarily, thinking of Raylan spending the next two hours flirting with the blonde behind the bar. "Don't get drunk without me, though. I'm on my way. And don't fuck any pretty bartenders in the meantime."

As soon as he'd said it, Tim wanted to snatch it back. He'd meant it as a joke, but like all jokes that are actually entirely true, it dropped like a rock, and there was silence on Raylan's end for a few moments.

Tim was about to apologize, tell him he was only kidding, when Raylan said quietly, "You know, I haven't done that in like four months."

Tim felt like his heart was in his throat for a moment, and he wasn't sure what Raylan was trying to say, or how to respond. He said, "I never asked you not to, Raylan."

With a smile that Tim could clearly hear on the phone, Raylan answered, "Good thing. If you had, I probably would have forced myself to keep doing it at least an extra month. I'm really a one at a time kind of person though. Is that alright? I ain't asking for the same thing from you."

"That's... that's fine," he answered carefully. "There's no one else," he added.

"Alright, then. I'll see you when I see you."

Tim hung up and drive as fast as he could back to Lexington. Occasionally he'd catch himself with a stupid grin on his face and force himself back to a sensible frame of mind. Just because Raylan wasn't sleeping with anyone else, didn't mean... but it did, kind of, didn't it? It must mean something. Or at least, the fact that he'd mentioned it did. 

Raylan was sitting at the end of the bar, indeed doing a bit of flirting with the lovely Lindsey. His usual reflexive jealousy reared up, but he pushed it away quick. He always did, but it usually took more effort. He thought it would probably go away now, once he was used to the new arrangement... or whatever it was. 

He looked up and waved when he saw Tim, and Lindsey said something to him with a laugh at the end. Tim sat down next to him and she asked, "Bourbon tonight, honey?"

Tim started to say yes, then changed his mind. "I'll have a vodka tonic, please."

Raylan grinned into his own drink and said, "I wonder what other surprises await me."

Lindsey brought him his drink, looked at Raylan and asked him, "This is going on your tab, right?" Raylan nodded, and Tim waited until she walked away to turn to him and stare. 

"You told her about me."

Raylan smiled at him and said, "She asked. I guess we ain't quite as subtle as we might have thought."

"You okay with that?" Tim frowned, because he had assumed Raylan wouldn't be. He wasn't sure he himself was. 

Raylan held his gaze for several seconds. Then he said, "You think I shouldn't be? You want me to be ashamed of you, does that make you feel more comfy with it?"

"Jesus, Raylan," Tim mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. "Suddenly you're gonna go all queer pride on me?"

Raylan smiled and shook his head. "Look, this is Kentucky. I ain't gonna walk down the sidewalk holding your hand. But I ain't gonna lie either, when someone asks me a direct question. What's the point of having a boyfriend if you can't let anyone in your life know about it?"

Now it was Tim's turn to stare, and after a minute or so, he stammered out a question. "You want to be my boyfriend?"

Raylan gave him a confused half-smile, half-frown, and said, "I'm not already? We been going out and fucking for six months. What do you call it?"

"Oh." Tim drained his drink and set it down, fiddling with the straw and not looking at Raylan. 

"Haven't you ever _had_ a boyfriend? You ain't really into girls, right? You're what, 30?" 

Tim gave him a sidelong glance and said, "32. And yeah, I have. But it's been awhile. And never someone from work. And never some... someone like you."

"What the hell does that mean?" Raylan laughed. "What am I like?"

"Shit, Raylan. I don't know." He picked up his empty glass and held it up, catching Lindsey's eye. "You're not like anyone. You're some preternaturally self-assured bisexual cowboy who apparently knows what's going on with me better than I do."

"No, I don't," Raylan said calmly. "I don't. I just... I make assumptions about other people, based on the way I feel. I know I do that. I've been told. So if that's what's happening here, you can just say so. If you don't want that, then I'll back way the fuck off."

"No!" Tim looked away, embarrassed at how quickly that came out of his mouth. He looked back at Raylan and ran a hand through his hair. "No, don't do that. I've been wanting more for awhile. I just didn't figure out I already had it. I'll be... however you want to roll this out is okay, but with working together..."

"Yeah," Raylan said, "We need to be careful."

Something occurred to Tim then, and he started to speak, then paused as Lindsey set a fresh drink down in front of him. When she'd walked away, he said, "Rachel... how was that? Weird?"

"Oh, yeah. Kinda weird. She tried to ignore it entirely for about half an hour, made all this awkward small talk. Then silence. Then she busts out with, 'You were eating off of Tim's plate!'"

Tim laughed and lowered his face into his hands. "Who knew your rudeness would ever come back to haunt you?"

"It ain't rude to steal food from your boyfriend's plate, Tim," Raylan said in a reasonable voice. "Anyway, I say 'yeah,' and she says, 'I guess that's why he puts up with your bullshit all the time.' I said, 'Yeah, maybe,' and she let it go. It was all fine after that."

Tim watched Raylan finish his drink, and was still watching as he stood up, picked his hat up off the bar and said, "I got beer upstairs if you don't want whiskey. Or, you know, water. You ready?"

"Yeah, Raylan, I guess so," Tim answered, still feeling a little dazed. "Let's go."

Raylan waved at Lindsey, who was down at the other end of the bar pulling a beer for someone. Tim nodded at her, and she gave him a wry smile, then tipped an invisible hat. He turned around quickly so she wouldn't see his grin. He was a lot of things, but unsportsmanlike was not one of them.

When they got upstairs, Tim kissed him in the hallway of the apartment, then tugged at his hand to pull him to the bedroom. Raylan held back a little and said, "You never told me what happened in Harlan."

Tim put his arms around Raylan's shoulders and kissed him again. He said, "I don't want to talk about that now. I'll tell you after." 

Raylan didn't answer right away, but he cocked an eyebrow at him before turning and walking down the hall. 

Tim followed him to the bedroom, where Raylan pulled off his shirt but left his jeans, boots and hat on as he leaned back onto the headboard. Tim laughed at him and said, "You're ridiculous."

Raylan still didn't say anything, just watched Tim get undressed with a small smile on his lips. When he was naked, he lay down on his back next to Raylan and looked up at him. "What are you gonna do with those jeans still on you?"

"I just want to watch you for awhile," he said, "Just do it for me."

Tim raised his eyebrows but gamely said, "Okay, but you have to talk to me. Tell me something hot." Raylan looked like he was about to protest, so Tim interjected right away, "Not about that. Anything... anything you think is hot."

"Right now you're just about the hottest thing I can think of. 'Course, that could be 'cause I'm staring at you."

"Okay," Tim said, reaching for himself and meeting Raylan's eyes, "why do you think I'm hot? What do you like about me? What do you want to do to me?"

"I like how you pretend you're irritated with me when I know very well you ain't. It's cute. I like that you finally ordered what you wanted to order tonight. I like how you're jealous of Lindsey but you always pretend you're not."

Tim stroked himself slowly and let Raylan's voice wash over him. He loved the sound of his voice. Usually when he talked during sex, he was talking about Boyd Crowder, because that's what Tim always wanted to hear about. Tonight, everything felt so different, things had shifted again, and Tim realized that once again he'd been missing a crucial piece of information. 

Raylan still had the same little smile, his eyes dark and wide. He kept on talking. "You help me, and you don't make me feel like I owe you anything for it. And also, your shoulders. You got real nice shoulders." Raylan was grinning a little more now. "And your hair, too, I like it."

Tim was very turned on now, more than he would ever have imagined by someone simply listing what they thought were his finer qualities. The thought that he might be a bit of a narcissist crossed his mind, but he realized he didn't particularly care. 

Raylan looked pretty aroused himself, his lips were parted, and Tim could see his chest rising and falling faster. There was a bulge in the crotch of his jeans, but he wasn't touching himself at all. He was sitting perfectly still, watching.

"As for what I want to do to you, well. I think you know by now most of the things I like. I love to feel your mouth on my dick. I always gotta work real hard to hold off 'cause you're so good. You got a sweet mouth, Tim."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and gasped, "Jesus Christ..."

"And of course I like fucking you. You know that, don't you? I like it even more 'cause you get so into it. Maybe..."

Tim's eyes flew open when Raylan's voice trailed off, and he saw that he was rubbing himself now, on the outside of his jeans. 

"Maybe what, Raylan," Tim panted. 

"Maybe you'd want to fuck me sometime," Raylan said, his eyes fixed on Tim's, pupils blown wide open. 

Tim didn't answer because Raylan had bent down to kiss him as soon as he'd said that, and then Tim was coming, groaning into his mouth and reaching up with his left hand to knock his hat off and grasp at the back of his head. 

Raylan pulled his mouth away gently after Tim finished, then unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just far enough. He drew in a sharp breath as Tim rolled over and quickly took all of him into his mouth. 

Tim ran a hand over Raylan's thigh, then traveled up to his stomach where Raylan grabbed it and held it tightly. He did hold off for some time, though as hard as he was, Tim had no idea how he was doing it. 

When he finally came, Raylan grabbed a handful of Tim's hair and muttered, "So good, God, so fuckin' good..."

Tim came back up to lie next to Raylan, who was still half-seated. Raylan slid down and propped himself on one elbow, trailing his fingers through the come on Tim's stomach and over his smooth chest. 

Tim looked up and smiled at him, and Raylan said, "You're kinda beautiful when you get a little messy. You shouldn't try to keep things so clean all the time."

Tim just blinked at him, having no clue how to respond to that. 

Raylan nodded, and said, "But you can get a shower if you want," and grinned at him. "Then we can go back downstairs and have another drink so you can gloat while you tell me about your day."

Tim laughed, but he thought that actually sounded pretty good.


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd pays a visit. Tim and Raylan have a breakthrough.

Raylan called to say he was running late just as Tim was walking into the bar. It was happy hour, and all of the tables were taken, which left only the bar. He sighed with the realization that he'd have to sit at the bar by himself, while the beautiful Lindsey, Raylan's erstwhile fuckbuddy, eyed him up and winked at him, or whatever it was she might do. 

He sat down at the bar and caught her eye as she set a drink down in front of a fat old guy who was leering at her. She smiled and headed down to greet him. "Hey, sweetie. Um... vodka tonic?"

"Sure, thanks, Lindsey," he said, determined to be an adult about it. 

She mixed his drink and brought it over, then rested her elbows on the bar and leaned toward him. "You really are adorable. I can _totally_ see why you won."

"I never knew I was in a competition," Tim replied, already uncomfortable.

She gave him a funny look, then threw up her hands in surrender. "Then maybe you never were, honey. Maybe there never was one."

Tim just shrugged and took a drink. 

"Anyway," she continued, "at least it wasn't some stupid girl. This way I can soothe my battered ego with the image of the two of you... doing what you do."

Tim laughed in surprise - he didn't know any other women who talked like that - and said, "I hope you don't have any cameras hidden up there."

She raised an eyebrow suggestively and said in a low voice, "Would I be scandalized?"

Tim winked at her and answered, "Nah. You'd probably be bored. Mostly we just watch _Toddlers and Tiaras_ marathons on TLC."

She was grinning as she reached for a glass left on the counter by the guy who had just gotten up. He also left a handful of change for a tip, mostly pennies. 

"What a dick," Tim said, motioning with his head to where the guy had been sitting.

"You can say that again," she muttered, then tilted her head at him curiously. "You ever bartend?"

"Nope. Waited tables for two summers during college, though. It's the best way to learn the all-important life lesson about how much most people suck." 

She laughed and was about to say something else, but her attention was diverted by someone coming in the door. "Hey, isn't that Raylan's friend?" she asked. 

Tim turned to look, and there was Boyd Crowder walking towards him. 

Boyd slid smoothly into the stool next to him and gave Lindsey a charming smile. "I would love a double of Jim Beam with a little bit of ice, darlin'."

Tim turned to stare at him. "What the hell are you doing here, Crowder?" 

"Well, _Gutterson_ , since you asked so nicely, I was looking for Raylan. I found something at the house he might want. Are you expecting him anytime soon?"

"What did you find?" Tim asked, ignoring the question. He didn't especially like the idea of Raylan being blindsided by something out of his past.

Boyd gazed at him for a few moments, then laughed to himself. "You think you need to protect him from me," he said, smiling slightly. "Well, I guess I earned that. I've hurt Raylan out of necessity, from concern for my own interests, but very rarely was the injury the intended consequence. I don't like to hurt him at all, just maybe piss him off a little." He paused and grinned. "Or a lot."

"Why?" 

"Because, Timothy... may I call you Timothy, seeing as how we're discussing my personal history with your boyfriend?"

"Nobody calls me Timothy," Tim replied.

"Even better. I like to make Raylan angry, because it's the only honest emotion I can get out of him anymore."

Tim stared at him, and realized what a truly accomplished liar he was. "That's very touching, Crowder, except it's bullshit."

Boyd looked at him in surprise and asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Because, Raylan told me..." Tim suddenly realize he was possibly about to give away too much information to this man, for the second time. What was it about him? 

Now Boyd was looking at him with some fascination. He leaned close and spoke in a low voice, close to Tim's ear. "Raylan told you what? That I used to rile him up so he'd fight me before we screwed? That I wanted him to leave his teeth marks in my skin?"

Tim was fighting valiantly to keep a neutral expression on his face, but his dick was feeling about as non-neutral as it was possible to be. 

"Something like that," he said, finishing off his drink. Lindsey noticed and started mixing him another without asking, and he smiled at her gratefully. 

Boyd was looking at him like his wheels were turning, but that wasn't anything particularly new. He looked like he might have more to say, but Raylan came in at that moment, saw who was sitting there, and glowered as he strode over to them. 

There were no stools available, so Raylan stood behind Tim and faced Boyd, arms crossed. "Well? What do you want, Boyd?"

"Who said I wanted anything, Raylan?"

"You don't do anything unless it suits your purposes, we both know that, so whatever your reasons for being here, you're getting something out of it. How about, instead of trying to manipulate the situation to your advantage, you just tell me what the fuck you're hoping to accomplish by being here." 

Boyd was looking at him like he hadn't expected anything else, and he said, "I have something of yours. I found it in that falling down outbuilding behind the house."

The mention of Arlo's house didn't help Raylan's mood any, that was obvious from his face. "There ain't nothing I want from that house. You wasted a trip. Might as well get an early start back to Harlan."

"Oh, is that so?" Boyd had a shrewd look on his face, and Tim knew that was not a great sign, ever. "Then what were you doing there? I saw you took some pictures and a blanket. Were you looking for something in particular?"

"Nope," Raylan said unconvincingly, "just wanted to look, just in case."

"Raylan," Boyd said, sounding like a normal person for once, "I found something. It's yours. I'm gonna give it to you, but I don't want to do it here."

Raylan frowned suspiciously, and Tim couldn't say he blamed him. "Why not? Can't be very big if you got it on you. What is it?"

Boyd sighed and said, "Just... look, just trust me once more, for old times' sake. I ain't armed, you can frisk me if you want." Raylan rolled his eyes. "What am I gonna do with Gutterson around, anyway? I'll just give you the thing and go. Alright?"

Raylan shook his head in disgust and said, "For fuck's sake, you always gotta be dramatic, don't you? Fine. Come on, let's go. I need a goddamn drink."

Lindsey, who had been shamelessly watching the whole exchange, bugged out her eyes at Tim in a question. He looked back at her and shrugged in ignorance. He had no idea what this was about.

They headed upstairs and Raylan opened the door. He stood in the hallway, folded his arms and said, "Okay. We're here. What is this mysterious object you found, Boyd? You said it was in the barn? I didn't leave nothing out there."

"You sure? Someone did, then." He produced a very small, battered and warped book with an imitation leather cover. 

Raylan looked like all the air had gone out of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and sagged against the wall. 

Tim frowned. "You okay, man?" Raylan nodded, but when he didn't say anything, Tim looked at Boyd and asked, "What the hell is that book?" 

Boyd didnt answer him, just glanced at him then looked at Raylan. Tim pulled the book out of his hand without any resistance, and saw that it was a Bible. He opened up the front cover, but before he could read what was written there, Raylan said, "I think I'll have that drink now. There's a sixer of that microbrew from the place in Frankfort in the fridge if you want."

"Yeah, you know... I think I'll go with bourbon this time," he replied. Whatever the hell was going on here seemed like it might require a little extra medication. 

"Alright," Raylan said, heading into the kitchen for the bottle. He seemed to hesitate, but took a breath and sort of mumbled, "Boyd, you want one?"

"I would love one, Raylan, thank you," Boyd said quietly, and followed him into the kitchen. Tim went in behind him, squinting at the cramped and slightly smudged handwriting on the flyleaf.

It read:

 _Dear Daniel,  
Please keep this Bible against your heart to remind you of God's love, and mine. You are in my heart always, and I pray for you every day while you are down in the dark.   
Your loving wife,  
Melissa_  
Below that, in a different handwriting, was another message:  
 _You and I have no need of symbolic reminders of our affections, as we are together in the dark. You can keep this in case that should ever change._

When Tim looked up from it, he saw that both Raylan and Boyd were watching him. He handed the Bible over to Raylan without comment. 

Raylan took it and set it down carefully on the counter, as if it might explode, then took a long pull from his glass. 

Boyd looked at Tim and told him, "I found that Bible in an old, long-abandoned mine one time when we were kids. I kept it all that time, I don't even know why, really. I gave it to Raylan when he started up at the mine. I'd already been doing shift work awhile, but I was real glad to have him down there with me."

No one spoke for a few minutes, as they all finished their drinks. As Tim was pouring himself a refill he asked, "Why didn't you take that with you when you left?"

Raylan was rubbing at his forehead like it hurt, and it was hard to hear his answer. "Couldn't find it," he said. "It wasn't where I hid it. I couldn't imagine... I had it up in the rafters in the attic, and when I went up there before I left, it was gone. Thought maybe Arlo found it and burned it or some shit. I thought it was gone."

Boyd poured a little more whiskey into his glass and said, "It was in that barn, but it was wrapped up in oilcloth and inside a plastic bag. Someone wanted to protect it, but they didn't want it found. Your mama, Raylan. Had to be."

"She never said anything. She could have mailed it..."

"Raylan, come on," Boyd said, smiling a little, "Your mother was a lovely woman, but she was from a different generation. I think she did all she was able to just to preserve it like this. She wasn't a fool, she must have known who it was from."

Raylan was leaning against the counter, looking a little stunned. Tim thought he should probably go to him, but he felt awkward about it with Boyd there. He was making up his mind to do it anyway, when Boyd crossed the room in a few strides and put a hand to his shoulder. 

Raylan frowned at him like he don't even understand what was happening. Boyd gave him an almost - and this was ridiculous, Tim knew - almost sheepish smile. 

"I'm still pissed at you for using the property, Boyd," Raylan said slowly, like he was rusty at speaking.

"I know you are," he replied. "That's alright, you can be pissed, I don't mind."

Raylan shook his head. "You never fucking quit, do you? You couldn't just leave well enough alone. After we talked, that night, about the letter, things felt okay. But you couldn't just let things be settled between us, you always gotta fucking push it. You-" 

Boyd's mouth was suddenly on his, preventing the rest of his diatribe, for the moment. Tim was frozen with the glass halfway to his mouth, not sure if he was more pissed off or turned on. When Raylan shoved him back roughly after about two seconds, the pang Tim felt made it clear which one it had been. 

"What the _fuck_? What do you think you're doing?" Raylan held the back of his hand to his lips, like he'd been hit instead of kissed. 

Boyd closed the distance again, and when Raylan moved to push him away again, Boyd caught his wrists and moved in to kiss him again. Raylan pulled his head back to avoid it, and Boyd smiled at him. "Don't you ever think about it, Raylan?"

"No, and fuck you, and Tim is standing right there in case you haven't noticed." 

Boyd turned his head in Tim's direction, then looked back at Raylan. "Oh, I noticed. Did _you_ notice? Look at your boy, Raylan. He ain't over here pulling me off you, or punching me out. He's watching. He wants to see us. I think you know that, too. Maybe you've known for awhile."

Raylan was shaking his head, but Boyd leaned in again, this time with the length of his whole body against him, and very, very slowly inclined his head to kiss him very gently on the mouth. 

"We can't do this. This is fucking crazy, we _can't_." Raylan looked over at Tim, who was wide-eyed and slightly open-mouthed. " _Shit._ " 

Tim pulled himself together and said, "Raylan, come here a minute." Raylan looked relieved and walked over. "Listen," Tim said, "You don't have to do this for me if you don't want to do it. I only want you to if you want it."

"You really... You don't... Jesus Christ, Tim."

Tim reached up to his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. "I really do. But you have to want to, or it's no good." He pressed himself into Raylan so he could feel how turned on he was. "I think you want to."

Raylan just held onto him for a minute, then nodded. "Okay. But I only want to because you want me to."

Tim laughed and said, "I guess that'll work." 

Boyd called over from where he was standing by the sink, "Are we all sorted out, then? Y'all got your big girl panties on?"

Raylan looked over in irritation and said, "What's that even supposed to mean? And you can make fun of me when you stand there and let me spring this shit on you in front of Ava."

"You want to get your ass shot, you go right ahead," Boyd drawled. 

"And you don't feel a little bit bad about doing this behind her back." 

Boyd shrugged and started walking over towards them. "It's special circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Raylan scoffed.

Boyd was close now and he spoke quietly. "I really. Really. Want it," he said, and pulling Raylan away from Tim, who nodded at him and licked his lips. 

Boyd ran his hand from Raylan's waist, up his chest and around to the back of his neck, then looked Raylan squarely in the face. "Do not make me feel like I'm forcing you, Raylan. Or that he's forcing you. That ain't how it is, and you know it."

Raylan huffed, and said, "Look, Boyd. Just because you can still make my dick hard don't mean I think this is a good idea."

"Objections duly noted. Now let's move on."

Raylan sighed and said, "Fine," in a peevish voice that did not indicate at all that he was about to get laid. He turned and walked into the living room, and Tim was relieved, because the bedroom was really a bit uncomfortable for three people. It wasn't even all that comfortable for two.

Raylan stood awkwardly by the sofa, for once not looking self-assured at all, cowboy or not. Boyd walked up and put both hands on his chest, pushing back gently to make him back up and sit. Tim settled himself on the other end of the couch, leaning against the arm so he could see. 

Once Raylan was seated, Boyd climbed into his lap, his knees on either side of Raylan's thighs, and pressing their hips together. They kissed for what seemed like a long time, while Boyd loosened Raylan's tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Raylan was occupied with running his hands over Boyd's skin, under his shirt, all over. 

Tim couldn't take his eyes off them. It was exactly how he imagined they'd look, both of them lean and hard, tough guys who improbably turn tender when someone is showing them affection. Even when Raylan leaned in to bite Boyd on the neck, it looked like love- or some approximation of it, anyway. 

Raylan's shirt was off, and he leaned back to unbutton Boyd's, as Boyd worked at Raylan's fly. Raylan put his hand to Boyd's heart, running a thumb over the scar where he'd shot him. 

Boyd looked up to meet his eyes and said, "Don't you fret about that, Raylan," in what sounded almost like a warning.

Raylan snorted softly and answered, "I ain't. That was your fault anyway."

Boyd smiled softly and whispered, "Of course it was," then kissed his jaw while he worked Raylan's cock out of his jeans. Raylan's eyes drifted shut and he leaned his head back. 

Boyd started talking, low, but loud enough for Tim to hear, saying, "Your boyfriend is real pretty, Raylan. He looks so good sitting there watching me touch you." Raylan opened his eyes and started to look, but Boyd held his jaw and said, "Don't look at him. Look at me. I'll tell you everything you need to know about him. I'll make sure he's doing fine."

Tim was amazed to see how easily Raylan obeyed that directive. Despite the complete lack of trust between them in almost every area, Raylan didn't doubt him at all at that moment. He kept his eyes trained on Boyd and put a hand on top of his to stop it moving.

"Get up, Boyd," he said quietly. Boyd got up immediately and unzipped his pants, apparently reading Raylan easily, because he slid onto his knees and took him in hand. 

Tim's intake of breath was clearly audible, as was the sound of him opening his fly. He knew Raylan was remembering what he'd told him, what he wanted to see.

As he pushed between Raylan's parted lips, Boyd groaned, then looked straight at Tim. He said, "He liked that, Raylan," as if it wasn't obvious. Raylan squeezed his thigh and let him in all the way, and Boyd continued to talk to him while he watched Tim stroke himself. He said, "How much did you tell him? Does he know about how it was after the mine fell in on us?"

Raylan was unable to answer just then, being busy with something else, so Tim shook his head slowly. Boyd grinned in pleasure and grasped a handful if Raylan's hair. 

"We thought we were gonna die. Now, Timothy here has been at war, so he most likely knows how that feels." Tim doesn't know how he got that information, but he's not surprised he has it. Boyd goes on, "We got out of there, and we could barely get ourselves out of people's sight before we were tearing at each other's clothes like they were strangling us."

Raylan grunted and reached for his own dick. Obviously this was a memorable one, and Tim wondered why he'd never told this story. 

Boyd hissed in a breath as he looked down to see what Raylan was doing. When he spoke again, it was softer, almost too quiet to hear, and he seemed to be speaking only to Raylan this time. "I thought you were gonna lose it, boy. But then you asked me for something, and I knew it was just what you needed. You needed to trust someone then, even if it was me."

Raylan's eyes squeezed tight, and he pulled Boyd in roughly. Boyd was stroking his hair now, and rocking slightly back and forth into his mouth. 

"I know you don't trust me enough for that now. But I bet you trust him, don't you?" Boyd was looking at Tim again, his face loose and flushed. "He seems like a real good kid."

Raylan pulled off then and gasped out, "Shut up."

"You don't like me talking about him? Why? Because you love him? Or because you don't, but you feel bad about it?"

" _Shut up,_ " he said angrily. 

Boyd's eyes flashed and he showed his teeth, in something between a grimace and a grin. Then he said, "Or perhaps you're concerned he don't love you enough. Just like you never thought I really did, or your wife, ain't that so?"

Raylan was on his feet in a flash and throwing Boyd onto the sofa. He got on top of him and pushed him into the back cushions, and growled at him, "You don't get to talk to me like that anymore. You lost your privileges. Got it? Just _shut the fuck up._ "

Boyd was breathing hard and his eyes closed, his face tense with concentration. He jerked his hips up into Raylan's and said, "Now we're talkin'."

Raylan's face went blank for a second as he presumably realized how Boyd had effortlessly manipulated him. "God, I hate you," he said through clenched teeth. 

Boyd reached up to the back of his head and held his wide-eyed stare. He said, "No you don't. You wish you did, but you don't." He pulled Raylan's head toward him, despite some resistance, and forced their mouths together as he moved his other hand down between them. He held both of them and stroked lightly, then harder as Raylan gave in to the kiss. 

Boyd was muttering as he kissed all over Raylan's face, saying, "You don't. Admit it, Raylan, come on."

Raylan's breathing was growing uneven, and he tried to pull away, but not too hard, and Boyd didn't let him. "Tell me, tell me you don't hate me," he panted close to Raylan's ear. 

Raylan was shaking his head in very small motions, and he said, "No. No, I do. I do hate you, Boyd," his breath hitched as Boyd sucked his earlobe into his mouth. "You'll say anything to get what you want, so fuck you."

"Raylan..." Tim was listening closely, but he couldn't hear anymore because Boyd was whispering low into Raylan's ear.

"No... No, please, just..." He stopped and buried his face in Boyd's neck, still shaking it in denial. "Stop... Stop, I don't want to like this."

"Say it, then, and it won't be like this," Boyd said in a shaky but utterly logical voice. 

All at once, it looked like all the fight had gone out of Raylan. He pulled his head back and looked at Boyd, then said, "I don't hate you. But I'm so pissed, Boyd."

"I know, Raylan," he said, and pulled him in tight by the waist as he pulled up on them together, tighter and faster. "I know, I know, it's okay."

Raylan grabbed the short hair in the back of his head and pulled hard as he kissed him. "Don't hate you. I don't. I just..." He stopped talking when Boyd kissed him again, and Tim could see that Boyd was coming, could hear his gasps and the sounds that were falling out of his mouth, for once beyond his control. 

Raylan hadn't come yet by the time he was finished, and Boyd pushed him over next to him on the sofa. "I can suck you off, if you want. But I was thinking maybe you want to do it some other way."

Raylan frowned at him, and Boyd said, "You got this beautiful boy here next to you, Raylan. I bet he'd love to put his cock in you while I do that."

Raylan's eyes bugged out and he said, "No."

Boyd was leaning in close, saying, "Why not? He wants to. You can look at him now, you can see it for yourself."

Tim wasn't sure exactly what Boyd's angle was, here, at all. He already got off, so why would he be so invested in what happened now? He did want to fuck Raylan, but not at all sure he wanted it to happen this way. He'd do it though, if that's what Raylan wanted. 

Boyd was rubbing Raylan's dick again, but slowly now, and talking in _that voice_. "You could let him in, couldn't you? You can't tell me you don't like it, cause I know that ain't true. He'd do it real sweet, I bet."

"Boyd, shut up, I ain't playing." Surprisingly, Boyd did shut up, which Tim found extremely interesting. He figured it was either because Boyd didn't have a hard on at the moment, or else Raylan had used some kind of subtle signal that only Boyd would recognize, to show that he really meant it. 

Boyd got up and leaned over Raylan where he sat, and kissed him, long and lingering, while Raylan took over stroking himself. Then Boyd did something completely unexpected. He sat down on Tim's lap, facing him, and kissed him swiftly and smoothly, sweeping his mouth with a skillful tongue. 

Tim's hands were up and out to the sides, and he pulled his face back as soon as he could. "Hey, man. This wasn't part of the deal."

"There wasn't no deal, Timothy," Boyd said, real soft as the devil, "because we never talked about any of this shit. I never forced myself on anyone though, so tell me to get up and I will."

Tim was sure he wanted him to get up, sure that this was not something he wanted, but the words wouldn't come. Boyd didn't wait too long before he took his silence as a yes, and he wrapped his fingers around his cock.

Raylan made a sound from where he was sitting, right next to them on the couch, very close. Tim and Boyd both looked at him, and he said, very matter-of-fact, "I do not know how I feel about that."

They were quiet for a second, then Boyd snorted, and Tim covered a laugh with his hand. Boyd said, "Yes, I'm sure it's very complicated for you and all that." He was mocking him, but gently this time. Raylan opened his mouth to answer, and Boyd spoke along with him as he said, "Shut up, Boyd."

Boyd reached over and did something that Tim never thought he would see anyone do, ever, in a million years. He mussed his fingers through Raylan's hair - not that it wasn't already all over the place - like you would a child, then smoothed it down. 

At first, Tim thought it was another ploy to get a rise out of him, but then he saw Raylan's reaction, which was just a soft laugh and an eye roll.

Boyd got up off of Tim, then, and moved down to the far end of the sofa, buttoning up his shirt. "I think I'm gonna head out. Long drive back to Harlan, and Ava's gonna give me some kinda hell when she sees that bite mark, Raylan."

Raylan raised his eyebrows at him and said, "You come in here, dump an artifact from the distant past in my lap, make me mad, force me to admit that I don't hate you, get yourself off, kiss my boyfriend, and now you're just walking out?"

Boyd's mouth twisted up in a highly amused grin, and he said, "You're welcome." 

"Jesus Christ, you are-"

"I know, I know." He leaned over and kissed Raylan on the cheek. "An asshole, yeah, I got it."

Raylan laughed. "Actually, I was just gonna say you're a piece of work. Which ain't exactly the same thing, and someone like you might even be able to take it as a compliment."

Boyd gave him a toothy grin, then nodded at Tim. "I'm sure I'll see you in my neck of the woods before too long, Marshal."

"Okay, Boyd, until then," he replied, and Boyd walked out. 

Raylan looked at Tim, and neither of them spoke for a few moments. Then Raylan reached for him and pulled him close. Neither one was particularly aroused at that point, the mood had been broken, and Raylan just wrapped his arms around him. 

"I'm... I don't know, Raylan, not sorry exactly. I hope you're okay." 

Raylan lowered his head into Tim's neck and kissed him where his pulse was beating. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who had to watch that freakshow. Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah. But..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Never mind? I don't think so. Not tonight."

"What he wanted... Why did you say no?"

"What he wanted...?" Raylan looked like he didn't understand, and then he suddenly looked dumbfounded. "You mean that shit about you fucking me, right there in front of him? I don't think he... He didn't really mean that. Or, well - maybe he meant it, but there's no way he thought I would do it."

"You don't like it?"

"I like it... with the right person."

"Oh." Tim couldn't think of a damn thing to say to that.

Raylan got up and fetched beers for both of them. When he sat back down, he angled his body towards Tim and looked him in the eye. 

"Listen," Raylan said firmly, "I wasn't about to do anything with you while he was there, much less something we never did before and that's kind of a big deal to me."

"Is that because you feel guilty for not loving me, like he said?"

Raylan grimaced and rubbed his forehead before answering, "He says a lot of things. He just runs his mouth until something hits bone, and then you forget all the wrong shit he said just before it."

"So, you don't feel bad about not loving me?"

Raylan gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Tim was trying to do. "Tim, mostly I don't feel bad about you at all. I have a real good time with you. I like hanging out with you, I like the sex we have, and I even like working with you. The only time I feel bad is when it seems like you'd prefer some scared, dumbass 19 year old to who I am now."

Tim reached up to touch his face. "If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?"

"Quit hedging your bets, kid," Raylan said with a pointed look. 

Tim nodded and looked down. He _felt_ like a kid at the moment. "Yeah," he said, "Right. Well. Raylan... I've been falling in love with you since we started this thing, but I think I might be a complete idiot, because I didn't even know we were a couple until a week ago."

Raylan set his beer down and put his arm around Tim, pulling him in for a kiss. 

"You ain't a _complete_ idiot," Raylan said, smirking a little. "I'm an asshole a lot of the time, and I rarely talk about my feelings, and I get uncomfortable when other people do. And honestly... even though I've gotten something out of this _thing_ you have about me and Boyd, it makes me feel like a shit sometimes. Or like you think I'm a shit."

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I don't think that. I know it's weird, I just-"

"Tim, stop. It's not that weird. I'm not trying to make you feel bad about it. It's my own issues that make it feel a little wrong to me, but that's probably the same shit that makes it hot for both of us. So it's a little... confusing." 

"You still have feelings for him?"

Raylan sighed, and kind of laughed. "I got all kinds of feelings for and about him. Some good, some bad, most of them somewhere in between. None of them involve dinner dates or sleepovers, or even a conversation that's not some kind of battle of wills."

"So... what does that mean? Your feelings for me are obviously more along those lines, but all that means is you like me. I already knew that."

"It means what it means, for now, okay? I gotta know you still want me if I can't do that for you anymore. Because after tonight, I really don't want to, so if that won't work for you we might as well just forget it."

Tim looked at his face, which was guarded and tense, like he was braced for bad news. Tim couldn't believe Raylan would really think he'd leave him over that, but it seemed like he did. 

Tim craned his head up and met his lips, starting soft and growing in intensity. Raylan shifted around and pulled Tim on top of him, and they made out until they were both hard and breathing heavy. 

After awhile, Raylan whispered in his ear to ask if they could go to bed. Tim thought it was strange that he'd ask instead of tell him they were going to bed, but he said, "Yeah. Of course."

They stood by the bed and took each other's clothes off, piece by piece, slowly. Tim could feel Raylan's desire for him, but he was keeping it contained, letting it burn. 

They lay on the bed and kissed each other some more, rolled around, touched everywhere. Tim had Raylan on his back, suspended above him and holding his wrists. He licked slowly at each of his nipples, alternating between them, until Raylan's hips were coming up off the bed. 

When Tim let up on his arms, Raylan reached into the bedside table and pulled out the little bottle of lube he kept in there. He threw it on the bed and rolled over on top of Tim. 

He kissed him and said, "You're gonna fuck me tonight, alright? I know you want to, and I want you to, and it's got nothing to do with anything else that happened tonight. This is just about you and me. Tim and Raylan. You with me?"

Tim grinned at him almost giddily. "Tim and Raylan," he repeated. "You bet." He took the bottle and poured some into his hand. He went slow, figuring it had most likely been a very long break from this for Raylan, if he was so discerning. 

Tim could barely contain himself. This felt odd, almost wrong, because of they way he'd been perceiving this relationship for most of the time. He was fully aware that he probably needed to adjust his attitudes and stop making so many assumptions, but for the moment he was enjoying the strangeness of dominating Raylan in this way. 

Even though, really, Raylan had told him to do it and laid out the terms, so Raylan in reality was still pretty much in charge, here. But maybe he didn't want to be, so much. They probably needed to talk some more. Later. 

Tim hadn't fucked anyone since his last real relationship, which had been more than three years prior. He was trying to push away a (hopefully) irrational fear that he wasn't going to be able to perform. Raylan was so ridiculously confident in all sexual matters that it could be intimidating at times. 

At the moment, Raylan's eyes were closed as Tim worked him open with his fingers. Tim kissed his slightly parted, somewhat chapped lips, and he opened his eyes. 

"Hey," Raylan panted, "You're doin' real good, darlin'. Take your time."

 _Darlin'?_ That was new. Lots of new stuff tonight, Jesus Christ. He started to wonder how this had been for him the first time, considering neither he nor Crowder would have had any- But no, that's not what they were doing right now. This was Tim and Raylan. 

"You're getting distracted, Timmy, I can tell. Come on, boy, focus. Listen to me. I haven't done this in years. I don't like to let anyone put me at a disadvantage, ever. I never trust anyone to do right by me... " He stopped talking and let out a long, low groan as Tim moved his fingers and found the spot, and his body writhed with it. 

Raylan kept talking, a bit more distracted now. "You just... need to understand. That it means something, okay? About you. Oh, God, Tim, enough of that shit. Fucking do it."

Tim pulled his fingers free and bent down to kiss him on the inside of his thigh, then licked a stripe up the side of his very hard dick. Raylan jerked and gasped, and Tim moved up to kiss his mouth. Raylan pulled him in by the waist and hitched up his hips. 

Tim sat back and looked at him, then decided that if Raylan wanted to trust him, if Raylan wanted him to take over, then Tim could do that. 

"Turn over, man," he said. "Please." Raylan raised his eyebrows at him like he was deciding whether or not to be amused, but he moved onto all fours. 

Raylan's back was such a beautiful thing, muscles moving beneath his skin with every tiny movement, and he put one hand on it. With the other one, he guided himself into Raylan, trying to be as considerate as Raylan always was with him. It was always good, always sweet, and now Raylan was trusting him to make it that way. 

When he was all the way in, he leaned his forehead forward and rested it on Raylan's sweaty skin for a moment. "Raylan," he said in a low, rough voice, "talk to me."

Tim started moving slowly, and he felt Raylan take a deep breath and relax his body. Then he started talking. He told Tim all sorts of random shit - he talked about things they'd done together in bed that he'd particularly liked, he brought up the first time he'd seen Tim shoot someone, which he said was, and this was possibly disturbing and certainly not a coincidence, the first time Raylan had felt any attraction to him. 

He talked _a lot._ This was more than he normally talked in a week. Tim was in a good rhythm now, and Raylan was starting to pause much more frequently in between sentences, then between words, and finally he was just grunting wordlessly, pumping himself. Then he said, "I'm getting close," and Tim closed his eyes, listening to the sound of his breath as it grew ragged, and he let out a long, open-mouthed groan and a quiet curse. 

Tim still hadn't come, and he pulled out carefully. Raylan rolled onto his back, his face slack and sated, and reached up to lay a hand on Tim's thigh. Tim finished himself off quickly, staring down at Raylan, and thought, _he could love me,_ just before he came all over his stomach. 

He started to get up, to fetch a washcloth, but Raylan tugged him down beside him. "Just wait," he said. "We can take a shower in a few minutes. Come here." He lifted his arm so Tim could nestle in against his chest. 

"Don't expect me to ask if that was good for you, Raylan." Tim smiled against his skin.

"No, I don't think you need to do that."

"It was real good for me too," Tim said, rubbing Raylan's arm.

"You don't say," he replied dryly. 

They lay quietly for a little while, until Tim said, "I got a lot of shit to figure out, man."

Raylan stroked his fingers through Tim's hair and said, "Mmhmm."

"I might act like an asshole while I'm doing that."

Raylan chuckled and said, "Okay, kid. I'll try not to take it too personal. Can you wait on that for tonight, though? It's been a little intense, y'know, and I was hoping we could just go downstairs and eat some chicken fingers or something."

"Sounds like a plan." Tim pulled out of Raylan's arms and started toward the bathroom, then paused and turned around. "Oh - don't be too surprised if Lindsey asks you about _Toddlers and Tiaras_."

Raylan looked at him like he'd lost his mind, and Tim walked into the bathroom laughing. Raylan called after him, "I don't even know what that is!" 

They ate, had a few drinks, and Tim invited Lindsey to come up and watch _Here Comes Honey Boo Boo_ with them sometime. Raylan yelled indignantly over the rowdy Friday night crowd, "I don't even know what that is!" This was entirely true, but it amused Tim to no end that she didn't believe him. 

Sometime, Tim knew, they were going to have to make a decision about work, whether to tell people. The idea scared him a little, but he found that it appealed to him even more. People could know, it wasn't the end of the world. 

And anyway, it was Raylan. Tim would be the envy of most of the women and who knew how many of the men working in the courthouse. Definitely Jason from Zoning. Maybe they could go to a gay bar and he could watch Raylan get hit on... 

Raylan was watching him, and when Tim finally noticed, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but softened it with a small smile. "What you thinkin' about, kid?"

"Not what you're worried I'm thinking about," he replied, grinning. 

"Alright, then. Just, you got that look. You gonna tell me what it was about?"

"I will if you take me upstairs and blow me," he said quietly. 

Raylan's eyes popped open wide, he stood up, and said, "I'm done here. Let's go."

Tim followed him upstairs, waving good night to Lindsey as they went.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't thank norgbelulah enough for her help (again). Seriously, tons of <3 to her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finally Found Something Real](https://archiveofourown.org/works/542194) by [HalfshellVenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/pseuds/HalfshellVenus)




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